A Thousand Words
by The Pirate Gypsy
Summary: When a photographer with a proposition winds up at Mort Rainey's cabin, he refuses straight away. But with Shooter looming, Mort decides a witness might not be a bad thing. What would have happened if Mort had someone who knew what he was going through?
1. The Offer

**Disclaimer: I don't own Secret Window**

**Here's Chapter 1! Enjoy!  
**

_Write something._

_Anything. Just write something._

Mort Rainey was currently sitting at his desk and staring at his laptop, his mind torturing him to write something. He needed to write something, if not for the fact that it was his livelihood but for the fact that he felt maybe writing something would make him feel better about being labelled a plagiarist by a southern man who had a manuscript of a story Mort had written years ago. Mort was trying to prove his own merit by writing just a paragraph but not even a sentence was coming to him. He had complete writer's block.

_You could call Amy about the magazine._

_But that would mean I have to talk to her._

_Good point. Let's not do that._

Mort was always grateful to think of a reason not to have to talk to his ex-wife and over time, the reason just became him not wanting to at all. He had yet to sign his divorce papers and after six months, Amy was calling him so Mort remained satisfied with the thought that he didn't have to call her because more than likely, she'd be annoying him soon enough.

Mort's attention was taken when he heard a knock on his door. He froze immediately.

_Shooter?_

He looked at his pet, Chico, as the old dog rested on a nearby chair.

"Okay, when I call, you come and maul him."

Chico simply turned his head away and closed his eyes again.

"Great..."

The knocking continued and Mort eventually got up and walked slowly down the stairs. He felt better when he didn't see the silhouette of a big man with a hat but when he realised it was the outline of a woman; he balked at the thought of opening the door again. But his curiosity got the better of him and he walked over and pulled the door open to see a blonde woman standing on the other side.

"Mister Rainey?"

Mort frowned. He'd never met her. "Yes?"

"My name is Dylan Saunders and I'm a photographer, working for Estrella Magazine."

"I told you people months ago that I'm not doing any interviews." Mort said, going to close the door.

Dylan put her hand on it to keep it open. "Actually Mister Rainey, I'm not here for that. The magazine is doing a piece on economical vacation spots, you know, the relaxation without the costs and Tashmore Lake is going to be featured."

"Okay..." Mort said, not knowing why she was on his doorstep but not wanting her to stay.

"I'm here because the view of the lake is perfect from here and I was wondering..."

"No."

Dylan frowned. "No?"

"I don't want anything to do with that." Mort said.

"You actually wouldn't have to be involved." Dylan assured. "I would just have to be on your land for a day or two. We'd pay you for your trouble if..."

"No...Thank you." Mort said. "Goodbye."

Mort closed the door and went to his couch.

_Call about the magazine._

_No._

_You need to get that magazine._

Mort groaned and lay back on the couch.

_I'll take a nap, prepare myself and then I'll call her._

Mort closed his eyes and tried to doze off but he was soon interrupted as the door opened.

"Hello, Mister Rainey."

Mort shot up quickly. "Hello, Mrs. Garvey."

Mrs. Garvey, his weekly cleaning lady, walked over to him. "This was on your porch when I walked up." She said, handing him a white card before going to the kitchen.

Mort looked down at it.

_Dylan Saunders_

_Photographer_

Mort looked at the phone number before flicking the card onto the table and forgetting about it completely.

"And how are you today, Mister Rainey?"

"Oh, fine. Just fine." Mort said, getting up and going back to his laptop. He was halfway up the stairs when he was stopped.

"Mister Rainey?"

Mort faltered tiredly and turned, plastering a polite look on his face as the woman came out from the kitchen. "Yes?"

"Do you have any laundry?"

"I'll go get it."

"Okay." She said, going back to the kitchen.

Mort continued up the stairs until she came out again.

"Have you eaten yet?"

He stopped again and turned. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

"I'll make something anyway in case you changed your mind." She said, returning to the kitchen.

Mort wanted to bang his head against the wall, or better, her head against the wall. He waited a few seconds before finally getting up the stairs and back to his laptop. He saw the white screen glaring at him.

After a few minutes, he looked down below to see Mrs. Garvey out of sight. He opened his drawer and pulled out one of his cigarettes, lighting it and began smoking.

_Much better._

"Mister Rainey?"

Mort panicked and stamped the cigarette against the wood. "Yes?" He called back.

"The laundry?"

Mort rolled his eyes. "One second."

"Alrighty then."

_Kill me now.

* * *

_

Mort had crashed on his couch that night after Mrs. Garvey finally left. He had recoiled at the thought of calling Amy again. He was awoken in the morning to the sound of a banging against the door which made him shoot up.

_Shooter._

Mort remained on the couch as the banging occurred again.

"Mister Rainey, I know you're in there. I can see you."

Mort huffed and got up, ripping the door open. "What do you want now?"

"The magazine."

"You said I had three days." Mort frowned. "Are you incapable on counting too?"

Shooter glowered at him. "Careful, Mister Rainey. You're all alone up here. If something were to happen to you, no one would know for days and days." Shooter gave a sickly smile when he saw something behind himself. "Hello doggy."

Mort looked back to see Chico had come up behind him. "Chico, inside."

The dog scuttled away and Mort turned back to Shooter. "Are you threatening me?"

"I am just letting you know what's what, Mister Rainey." Shooter said. "I don't appreciate being made look a fool by a man who stole my idea. Now, where is that magazine?"

Mort huffed. "I don't have it yet."

"You better go on and hurry yourself up, Mister Rainey and get that magazine from your ex-wife or else I'm going to have to go down there myself and ask her about it. See you soon, Mister Rainey. Good day."

Shooter walked away, back to his car and Mort closed the door quickly, locking it. He rushed back to his couch and placed the phone in front of him.

_Can I call the police? _

_He hasn't done anything I can tell the police about._

_He threatened me. Surely that counts for something._

Mort thought about it.

_No witnesses._

_If I did have someone around here for a few days, I bet Shooter wouldn't come within a hundred feet of here._

Mort looked down at the phone and saw the white card lying next to it.

_One or two days._

_Right outside._

Mort picked up the receiver and dialled the number on the card.

"Hello?"

"Miss Saunders? It's Mort Rainey."

"Mister Rainey, I have to say, I didn't expect to be hearing from you." Dylan smiled. "I thought leaving that card was a very long shot."

"Yeah, well...I've been thinking about it and I've decided to take you up on your offer."

"Great. Do you want to make an appointment or..."

"Just come up whenever you want." Mort said. "The sooner, the better."

Dylan nodded. "Perfect. I'll see you soon, Mister Rainey."

"Yeah...uh...Bye."

Mort put down the phone and rapped his nails on the wooden table.

_You better help me out, lady.

* * *

_

**Thanks for reading! Please Review!**_  
_


	2. Awkwardness

**To lori: Happy to do it! Thanks :)**

**Here's Chapter 2!**

Mort was fast asleep the next morning when a knocking on his door woke him.

_Oh God, go away!_

He got up, still in his robe and put on his glasses before making his way downstairs. He opened the door and found Dylan standing on the other side.

"Morning, Mister Rainey."

Mort frowned. "What time is it?"

"It's nine."

Mort was nearly in shock. He hadn't been awake this early in months! "Nine? That's...Why?"

_Just why?_

Dylan frowned. "You said I could take some photographs here, remember?"

"Yes, I remember. It was less than twenty four hours ago." Mort said. "Fine. Just do what you want." He went to close the door and maybe get back to sleep.

"Em...okay. I was just wondering..."

Mort turned back. "What?"

"Well, do you have any stipulations?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Where I can and can't photograph."

Mort frowned. "Obviously I don't want any pictures of myself taken."

"Of course not." Dylan said quickly before realising. "I didn't mean it like that."

"Miss Saunders, I'm a grown man who lives in his bathrobe, sleeps all day and whose diet consists of Doritos. You should mean it like that."

Dylan couldn't help but smile at his joke, or at least, what she thought was a joke. Mort, not so much. "I actually meant more along the lines of the cabin and such."

"Why would you want to take pictures of my cabin? I thought you were taking pictures of the lake."

"I am but you know, angles and such. It might get in there and I'd prefer to ask you now rather than take the pictures and then have you tell me not to use certain ones."

Mort shrugged. "No pictures of me, the license plate on my car and Chico."

"Chico?"

"My dog."

Dylan nodded; wanting to point out that license plates weren't really something he needed to warn her about but decided not to. "Alright then."

"Don't mention me in your article or that it's my cabin and you can do whatever you want."

"Thank you, Mister Rainey." Dylan smiled. "Not everyone is this accommodating when it comes to things like this."

"Yeah..." Mort said, feeling uncomfortable all of a sudden. "Well, I'll leave you to it."

Dylan nodded and walked back to her car and Mort closed the door.

_Should I have offered her coffee or something?_

_No, she's fine._

Mort lay on the couch but the knowledge that someone was right outside was distracting him from getting back to sleep so instead he went upstairs to get changed and try and write for a while.

He was sitting at his laptop, typing and deleting soon afterwards when the phone rang. He walked down the stairs and went to answer it.

"Hello?"

"Mort?"

Mort huffed. "What is it, Amy?"

"I'm just calling to see how you're doing?"

"Is that all?"

"Am I not allowed do that?"

"You're allowed do whatever you want. We're not together anymore." Mort said. "Although that never stopped you anyway."

Amy sighed. "About that. Mort, the papers?"

"There it is." Mort said, going to the window and looking out to see Dylan still out there. She was sitting on the rock by the lake and fiddling with her camera.

"Yes, Mort. It's been six months so I'm a little anxious to know how much longer it'll take."

Mort took his glasses out and rubbed his eyes in frustration. He looked out again and didn't realise till now that from far away, Dylan kind of looked like Amy, what with the blonde hair and his bad eyesight. He put back on his glasses to stop that from being the case. "Remember when I asked you about Secret Window?"

Amy sighed. "Yeah?"

"Do you think there's any chance there's a copy of the magazine it was published in lying around my house somewhere?"

"Mort..."

"Your house, whatever. It's not like I paid...Oh wait."

"It's very hard to talk to you when you're like this, you know."

"I do know and yet you keep trying. Well, is there?"

"What?"

Mort rolled his eyes. "The magazine, Amy."

"I don't know. I can look. Why?"

"Because I want it."

"For what?"

"I'm reminiscing about the good old days." Mort said, annoyed. "Look, if you find it, can you just send it up to me as soon as possible...please."

"Fine. I'll go look now. And I'd appreciate it while I'm sending it up to you, if you were sending the papers down to me."

"I bet you would."

"Mort."

"If you could even find the number to Ellery Queen's magazine and pass it on, thanks a bunch."

Mort hung up the phone and decided to walk outside though out of curiosity or sheer boredom, he wasn't sure.

Dylan spotted him walking over out of the corner of her eye and looked up. "Hey."

"How are things coming along?"

"Great. I think I got some really good test shots."

Mort frowned. "Test shots?"

Dylan nodded. "Today is more about getting the right angles, lighting, stuff like that. Sunrise, sunset, ideal conditions." Dylan looked up at the sky which had clouds gathering overhead like they had been all day. "Although these clouds are a bitch to work with."

Mort was still stuck on a different aspect. "Sunrise?"

Dylan nodded. "I'll do that in the morning if you don't mind. I won't wake you or anything, I promise. I'll just do my work silently." She smiled.

"And sunset?"

"Is there a problem?" Dylan asked, wondering if he was going to change his mind again.

"No, no problem." Mort said. "Just...those are some crappy hours to be working."

Dylan shrugged. "It's fine. I'm not really doing anything else while I'm around here."

"You're actually staying in Tashmore?"

"Well, I have to take other photos around the place so I decided if I'm helping promote here, why not experience it for myself?"

Mort nodded. "And?"

"Like I said, not much to do."

"I think that's the point."

Dylan groaned when rain started trickling down from the sky. "Perfect."

Mort nodded. "I suppose you'll be leaving then?"

Dylan mistook his apprehension at his plan of having someone to keep Shooter at bay not working out for him for just not wanting her here. "Yeah, guess so. Lucky you."

"Oh no, I didn't mean it like..." Mort cursed himself. Since when did he get so freaking awkward around women? "You can come inside if you want. Wait it out. It might clear up."

"Oh, I didn't mean it like that." Dylan said quickly. "I wasn't..."

Mort frowned. Wait, was she feeling awkward too? Mort quickly went over their conversation. She had been as formal and short as he had been.

"Just...come on. You don't want your equipment getting wet." Mort said.

Dylan nodded. "Okay."

She got up and took her stuff inside the cabin. When she got in, Chico came up to her. "Hey boy."

Chico turned and walked away again.

"Alright then." Dylan frowned.

"Don't worry," Mort said. "He's the most antisocial dog ever. It's why we get along."

Dylan nodded before turning to the window. "It's really coming down out there."

"Yes it is." Mort said. He realised they were both just standing there awkwardly but didn't really know what to do about that. He was used to people being casual around him because he always gave off that vibe to people but not so much anymore and as it turned out for some reason, Dylan was the same. "Do you...?"

"Yes?"

"Oh...Coffee?"

Dylan realised. "Oh. Just water, please. Coffee makes me jittery."

Mort nodded and went to the kitchen and Dylan looked around. There were some books out of the bookshelf and now settled on the floor and the place was a bit of a mess, to be honest. But she supposed that a man living on his own wasn't really the cleaning type.

"Do you mind if I..."

Mort frowned. "Yeah?"

"Take off my jacket?"

Why would he mind that? "No?"

Dylan rolled her eyes at herself.

_Stop being weird! This is fine._

_Everything is fine._

Mort walked back into the room and handed her a glass of water. She turned and frowned when Mort's eyes were drawn her chest. She looked down and noticed that her jacket had covered what was now on show. She had a long scar on the right side of her chest which was now poking out from her shirt. Dylan instinctively pulled the fabric of her shirt over it and Mort realised.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean..."

"It's fine." Dylan said. "Old war wound."

Mort nodded. "Of course."

_Can I go back up to my laptop or do I have to stay here with her now?_

As if sensing his thoughts or just having matching ones, Dylan spoke up.

"Don't think you have to stay and entertain me. I understand if you have work to do or something. I'll just wait the rain out or if it keeps going, come back tomorrow."

Mort nodded. "I'll check on you later."

Dylan nodded and went to the window and Mort walked back up to his laptop though writing was the last thing he managed to do.

_She was just as awkward as I was. That much is obvious._

_Wonder where she got that scar from._

_Maybe she came to this God forsaken town to get away from life too._

For the first time in a long time, Mort Rainey's thoughts were not on divorce or his wife, writer's block or John Shooter. There were all on the woman who was in his living room.

_What's she hiding?

* * *

_

Dylan was looking at herself in the mirror in her motel room that night. She was wearing a string top and her scar was visible now.

_I didn't think I'd be that awkward. I'm not awkward around people anymore._

"Maybe it's because he was the same as me."

Dylan sighed as she continued to look in the mirror. For the past few months, she didn't really like looking at herself. She didn't understand what about herself had made him go crazy. She could look at herself till the end of time and never know.

_I need to change something. I can't keep doing this.

* * *

_

Mort heard the car pull up outside, sunrise being many hours ago with no photos taken to capture it, and he didn't know why but he got up and looked out the window to see someone getting out of the car.

_Dylan?_

He walked over to the door and opened it and walked outside, causing Dylan to look up.

"Hey." She said. "I know I'm late. I'm just gonna get straight to work if that's okay."

"You dyed your hair."

Dylan's hand went to her now brunette locks. "Yeah."

"Well, it's...nice."

Dylan frowned in confusion. "Thank you."

"What?" Mort said.

"Nothing."

"You're frowning."

"And you're perceptive. I just...That was a nice thing to say."

Mort realised what she meant. He wasn't really the type to give out compliments. Why was he just then? And to her? He barely knew her. "I was just telling the truth. I'm going to go back inside."

Dylan nodded. "Alright then. Talk to you...later."

Mort nodded and walked back inside. Why did he say that? He did like her hair and he was definitely going to like the fact that if he ever looked out the window now, he would not think he was seeing Amy from behind. But when he said that to Dylan, he hadn't even considered Amy.

_You're overanalysing. Stop overanalysing._

_I can't help it. That's the first positive thought I've had about a woman, hell anyone at all, since I left Amy. _

_It's just a change of hair colour._

_But it's really nice. She looks pretty with it._

_Newsflash, she is pretty. But you know what? There are a lot of pretty women out there. Just because you can admit that doesn't mean anything. _

_What if it does?_

_It doesn't.

* * *

_

**Dylan's got some issues of her own, it seems.**

**Thanks for reading! Please Review!  
**


	3. Unexpected Turns

**To lori: Thank you!**

**Here's Chapter 3!  
**

"I'm sorry I keep having to do this."

Mort looked at Dylan as she sat at his kitchen table. "No problem. It's not like you control the weather."

Dylan chuckled. "I wish I did. It would make my job a whole lot easier. It's not going to be easy to sell a place as a "staycation" spot if the pictures show it raining all the time."

Mort frowned at her. "What did you just call it?"

Dylan smiled. "Staycation. A vacation where you stay in the country or state, even."

"That's...ridiculous."

"Hey, I'm not the writer. I didn't come up with it." Dylan defended herself. "I just take pictures. Well, I would if the weather cleared up."

"This is kinda unusual." Mort said. "But I suppose there's nothing you can do but wait it out."

Dylan nodded. "And thank you for letting me stay in here to do that, Mister Rainey. It's a lot easier than driving..."

"Mort."

Dylan frowned. "Hmmm?"

"Call me Mort." He said. "Mister Rainey makes me feel like I'm fifty years older than you."

"Oh, okay. But Dylan is fine too."

Mort frowned. "That's an unusual name for a girl. Dylan. How'd your parents come up with it?"

He was surprised to see Dylan grow embarrassed. "Let's just say they were big fans of Bob."

"Bob...? Oh," Mort said, realising. "You're serious?"

"It's what they tell me." Dylan nodded. "They're kinda...kooky."

Mort chuckled. "Next, you're going to tell me you have a sister called Jagger."

Dylan shook her head. "Nope."

Mort nodded but stopped when she spoke again.

"That's my middle name."

"Okay now you're messing with me."

Dylan smiled. "I wish. But no, I'm serious. My brother and all my sisters have normal enough names but I got stuck with the rock stars. Oh well one of my sisters is called Penny after Penny Lane..." She remembered.

"How many brothers and sisters do you have?" Mort frowned.

"One brother and six sisters."

"Six? So there were seven girls?" He asked with wide eyes. "That must have been fun for your brother."

"Well he's the second oldest. Well third, really. My oldest sisters are twins."

"Where do you rank?"

"The bottom." Dylan said. "I'm number eight. What about you? Any brothers or sisters?"

"Nope." Mort replied. "Just me."

"Must have been nice. Privacy was only an urban legend in my house growing up."

Mort chuckled but his attention was taken when his phone rang. Then real life came back to him. Today was the day he was supposed to show Shooter that magazine so he would leave once and for all. Amy couldn't find any magazine but had found the number so Mort called them and they were sending it out. Mort just hoped it got to him on time. Although he was pleased to notice that ever since Dylan started coming up here and keeping Mort company in a sense, Shooter hadn't reappeared. Maybe he'd spotted her hanging around and that warded him off. Mort could only hope.

He went to the phone and picked it up. "Hello?"

"Mister Rainey? It's Juliet from the post office. There's an UPS package just dropped off for you."

Mort restrained letting out a sigh of relief. "Thank you. I'll be there to pick it up right away."

"Sure thing. Talk to ya soon."

"Yeah, bye."

Mort hung up the phone and looked back to the kitchen to see Dylan focusing her camera, looking through the lens.

"What are you doing?" He asked quickly.

Dylan put the camera down. "Oh I wasn't going to take any pictures, I promise. I was just...fidgeting." She said with a shrug.

Mort nodded. He wanted to get that magazine now and have it with him but he didn't really want to leave her in his house alone.

_What's she going to do? Burn the place down?_

_It's my house. I don't leave random people in my house._

_You sort of know her. She'll probably just sit there until the rain stops which actually looks like is happening. You can't just send her outside. What if Shooter turns up for the magazine and you're not here and he says something or does something to her? I would like to not have her safety on my conscience._

"Mort?" Dylan asked, frowning at him. "Are you okay?"

Mort smiled at her though it wasn't very confident. "Fine."

"Are you sure? You've gone quite pale."

"Very sure." Mort said. "Look, I've got to go into the town for a while to pick something up so..."

"Oh okay." Dylan said getting up without a qualm. "Actually, I probably won't be able to get any good shots for this shoot until it's dried up which will hopefully be tomorrow. It's a shame though because it's really pretty right after the rain but not something tourists probably want to see..."

"Dylan?" Mort frowned.

Dylan looked at him. "Sorry. Got distracted. But yeah, I'll see ya tomorrow."

"Why don't you just take the photos for yourself?"

Mort was surprised to hear himself say it but he really couldn't afford to have her leave when today was the reason he'd asked her up in the first place, so she could be here when Shooter was and stop the man from doing something like, say, killing Mort.

Dylan frowned. "What?"

"Well you said yourself that you like the look of the lake after the rain. Why don't you just take pictures for your portfolio or whatever it's called."

Dylan didn't understand how uncomfortable and almost panicked Mort had become. "Mort, are you sure you're alright? You don't look too good."

"Seriously, I'm fine."

"When was the last time you ate?" Dylan asked, mistaking his worry over Shooter doing something for just making himself ill.

"Pardon?" Mort asked.

"Look, as a thank you for letting me use your property, why don't you let me make you dinner or something? You look half starved."

Mort frowned. "You got an underlying mothering instinct, don't ya?"

"A little bit. I get it from the smothering six sisters."

"Thanks for the offer but no thanks." Mort said, getting his keys. "I don't need..."

"It's just a thank you." Dylan said. "It'd probably be better than flowers." She joked. "Look, it'll be done before you get back."

Mort got his keys and went to leave. "Look, fine. Do whatever you want." He said quickly.

Dylan watched him rush off.

_Strange man._

_But a handsome, strange man._

Dylan felt a little smile come to her face. "Yes, he is."

* * *

_I can't believe I just left her in my house. Just left her in my home with my dog and my belongings and left her free to snoop or do whatever._

_What if someone calls? What if Shooter comes by? I can't really afford to let him near anyone in my life._

_Whoa, she's not in my life. She's a photographer who I let take some pictures._

_You have to admit, before the post office called, you didn't even remember about Shooter or the magazine. What's wrong with having a friend? Just one friend to distract yourself once in a while? You were actually just happy to talk to someone normally for a change._

_Someone who is not sticking around. Leaving. She is going to leave and my life is going to go back to being me, Chico and writing. The life I like._

_The life you're used to. That doesn't mean you're happy with it._

_Well, I am._

_Huh, then maybe you should have left Amy years ago._

It was then that Mort remembered.

_Amy._

_What if Amy calls? And Dylan answers the phone?_

_Crap.

* * *

_

Dylan walked back inside and put her camera on the table. She'd gotten a few good pictures, none that she thought the magazine would want to use but ones she liked.

"Hey boy." She said when she sat down and Chico walked up to her. She bent down and began scratching his ear. "Let's see what your master has to eat, hmmm?"

She got up and went to the kitchen counter to search through the cabinets but didn't find much that could be made into a meal. It was mainly potato chips, his beloved Doritos, things that didn't need to be cooked.

She looked down at Chico. "I think this is going to take a lot of improvising."

She crouched down to see if there was anything in the lower cabinet and was pleased to find a bag of pasta.

_Finally, something I can use._

In front of the pasta, she found a half empty bottle of Jack Daniels and what looked like a manuscript. She frowned at the words on the front page.

_Sowing Season by John Shooter?_

Dylan hadn't admitted it because he didn't seem like the type to appreciate it but she'd read most of Mort's books and she'd never knew of him writing one under the name 'John Shooter.'

_Didn't seem like the type to read other people's manuscripts._

_Hmm, maybe he's doing a friend a favour or something._

Dylan shrugged and went to pull out the pasta but in doing so, knocked the bottle of whiskey which hadn't had its cap screwed on properly and spilled onto the manuscript.

"Damnit!" She said, righting the bottle quickly and pulling the manuscript out and putting it on the table before trying to dry it with a kitchen towel. She dried up the liquid and left the manuscript by the window on the table to dry. "Well done, Dylan..."

She decided she'd just have to tell him when he got back and to do that would be easier if she actually had an apology offering so she got back to work with the pasta.

It wasn't too long after she heard the door open and Mort walked in quickly, holding a package in his hands. Once he saw her in his kitchen without a care, he seemed to relax.

"Hey." She said.

"Did anyone call?" He asked.

Dylan shook her head. "No."

"No one stopped by?"

"Not a soul." Dylan shrugged.

Mort nodded and went to his couch, tearing open the envelope and flicking through the magazine. He saw his story right where it should have been.

"Are you okay?" Dylan asked, walking up behind him.

"Absolutely perfect." Mort said, thoroughly relieved. He looked back at her and realised she was probably confused. "Uh...Whatever you're making smells good."

"Oh, it's just a chicken pasta bake thing. I just worked with what was around." She said as she walked back into the kitchen. "I hope you like that. I assumed you do since the stuff was in your house."

Mort nodded as he followed her out. "Sounds fine. Thanks for going to the trouble."

"Oh, no trouble at all." She assured. "I love to bake and cook and stuff so I was basically just entertaining myself. Oh, I fed Chico a while ago so you don't have to worry about that."

"Oh...thank you." Mort said, surprised.

"No problem. Well, yours is still in the oven and should be done in around ten minutes." She said, putting on her jacket. "So..."

"You're leaving?" Mort asked.

_Shooter at night?_

_Not good._

_He didn't show up. Maybe he won't._

Dylan frowned. "Yeah, gotta get back to...my motel."

_Stupid. Why would I need to go to my motel room? The excellent service?_

Mort tensed at the mention of the motel. "You're staying at a motel?"

"Yeah, that dreary one just outside of town with the big red letters. It's no Ritz but it suits me while I'm here." Dylan picked up her equipment. "Well, I'll see you tomorrow, Mort."

"See ya." Mort said, his attention now on the magazine which would be his only protection now. Hopefully.

Dylan frowned and left the cabin.

Mort read through his story and checked the date of the magazine again and again.

"He can't touch me. I was right. He'll just have to deal with that and get over himself." Mort said. He got up to take her food out of the oven. He grabbed the kitchen towel and opened the door.

_Huh, looks good._

He put it on the counter top but frowned when he smelled something that wasn't the pasta bake. He brought the towel to his nose and smelled the whiskey wafting off it.

"What the...?"

He shrugged and put the towel down. He got a fork and instead of serving up a section onto a plate, he just dug it into the entire thing and got a can of Mountain Dew out of the fridge before going to the table. He began to eat it before his eyes caught sight of the manuscript sitting on the table. He froze before dropping the fork with a clang onto the table and picked up the manuscript quickly.

_This shouldn't be out here._

_I got rid of this!_

_How is this happening?_

Mort thought back.

_Dylan?_

_No, why would she?_

_It was gone when I left and it was here when I got back! And she didn't mention it to me. She just ran out of here. Maybe it was a message._

_Why would she do this?_

Mort then had a very unnerving thought.

_What if she's been working with Shooter all along?_

_No, that ridiculous._

_Is it? She appeared at the same time as him. What if Shooter and her are working together? He comes in to rattle me and then she comes in to keep an eye on me. Make sure I don't go to the police, don't get anyone else involved._

_No! Why would she do that?_

_Why would a random man come to me claiming I stole his story when I have proof I didn't? They're clearly not right in the head._

_Not they. Him. You don't know Dylan is involved. This could just be a huge misunderstanding._

_Or a message. She's letting me know he's coming._

Mort left his kitchen and into his living room to find the magazine.

"It's here. I'm right. They can't do anything."

_Shooter can get here whenever he likes. He's wrong and I have the proof._

_I'm sure an unstable man like him is going to leave coolly. Yeah, I have no doubt he takes being wrong very well. Absolutely. Hey, he might even offer to buy me a drink in apology._

Mort put his head in his hands.

_I am going to be murdered._

Mort paced around his cabin for hours waiting for Shooter to turn up. He couldn't get Dylan out of his mind. Was she really working with Shooter? Mort had let her in his house. He had left her alone in his house. He had trusted her. And Mort didn't do that a lot anymore.

_I am such an idiot!_

_Yeah well, not anymore. I'm not taking this anymore!_

Mort looked outside at the night sky. Hours had passed but it didn't even register with Mort as he grabbed his keys and left the cabin.

* * *

Dylan jumped awake with fright when the door to her dark room burst open. She looked up to see Mort standing there.

"Mort?" She said, trying to get her breath back. "What the hell are you doing here? How did you get into my room?"

Mort looked around. She was alone. There was no Shooter, no one but her in the room.

"Where is he?"

Dylan frowned. "Who?"

"Shooter!"

Dylan was very confused. "Who's Shooter?" It was then that she remembered. "The manuscript."

"Yes, the manuscript!" He said. "You're not going to get to me by leaving cowardly little messages around! You can tell your buddy that he's not intimidating me anymore. I have the damn magazine!"

Dylan frowned. "What are you talking about? Mort, I spilled something on the manuscript so I left it out to dry. I didn't read it or anything. I wouldn't do that. I just forgot to tell you. I'm sorry. But I didn't read it or anything."

Mort frowned. "You don't know anything about the manuscript?"

"No. I didn't even take notice of it. I just dried it off."

Mort's angry breathing calmed as his common sense and rational thinking came back to him.

_What is wrong with me?_

_She's not involved with Shooter. She's just a normal person. And you just barged into her room in the middle of the night!_

"Mort?" Dylan frowned. "Are you alright?"

Mort didn't seem alright. He seemed panicked. "I...I'm sorry. I have to go."

Mort turned to leave but Dylan got up too and hurried after him. "Wait! Mort, why would you think I know someone who sent you a manuscript?"

"Look, I'm sorry."

"No Mort, what are you doing here?"

"Nothing." Mort said, hurrying back to his car.

"Mort!" Dylan said, grabbing his arm and making him turn. It was quite cold and when she caught his attention, she wrapped her arms around herself. "Talk to me."

Mort looked at her. He didn't know what was happening with him. One minute he was annoyed by her, didn't even want her on his property then he didn't mind being around her, enjoyed it even and now one little thing could make him lose himself completely. He didn't know why he was here.

"Maybe you shouldn't come back." Mort said. "Just...Don't come back."

Mort turned and walked back to his car, getting in and driving off quickly. Dylan looked after him in complete confusion.

"Miss? Are you alright?"

Dylan looked to see the motel manager run up next to her. "I'm fine."

She looked back to where Mort had sped off.

_What happened to him?__  


* * *

_

**Mort's paranoia may be getting the better of him!**

**Thanks for reading! Please Review!  
**


	4. Getting Involved

**To lori: Thank you. I think she's up to the task. Maybe.**

**Here's Chapter 4!  
**

Mort was on his couch the next morning, still in his clothes from last night, his hair in disarray. He was eating Doritos though only to have something to do as he was in a complete daze. His attention was taken when he heard a knocking on the door.

_Shooter?_

Mort got up slowly as the knocking continued. He walked over to his window and looked out, peeking over to the door. He frowned when he saw Dylan standing there. He walked over and opened the door.

"Dylan? I thought I told you...

"I know what you told me." Dylan said, cutting him off. "But Mort, you can't burst into my room in the middle of the night and then tell me you never want to see me again."

"But I don't want to ever see you again." Mort said.

Dylan sighed. "Fine. I didn't do anything to warrant being treated like this but fine. But first tell me why you couldn't wait till this morning to tell me that or call me on the phone? Why steal the key to my room and burst in during the middle of the night? I mean, you didn't even knock, Mort!"

"Dylan!" Mort said, nearly shouting. He tried to calm himself down before answering though he had no answer, which was why he was shouting at her to shut up. She was asking questions he was asking himself. "I am sorry I disturbed you last night, truly I am, but I do not want to discuss my problems with you. I want to be left alone."

Mort tried to close the door but Dylan's hand on it stopped him. "So you're not even going to explain to me why you did it? You just expect me to leave and forget it ever happened?"

"You're making a very big deal out of this."

"You broke into my motel room in the middle of the night!"

Mort looked into the house when the phone started ringing. He was actually thankful for the distraction. He turned back to Dylan. "Excuse me."

He closed the door and walked over to the phone, picking it up, having a feeling he knew who it was. "Is that you, John Wayne?"

"Mort? Are you there? Mort?"

Mort nearly threw the phone against the wall. "Yes Amy, I'm here. Just lower your voice a little. What is it?"

"I have been trying to call you all night and all morning."

"I was asleep." Mort lied.

"So you unplug your phone?"

Mort wanted to roll his eyes. Why did she care? "How may I assist you Amy?"

"Oh Mort..."

Mort frowned. "What happened? What?"

"Someone burned down our house."

Mort was in shock. "What?"

"Someone burned down our house!"

Mort felt himself become more panicked. Shooter? "Okay, I'll be there as soon as I can."

Mort put down the phone and got up. He bolted out of the door and was greeted by the sight of Dylan getting into her car.

"Dylan!"

Dylan looked up tiredly. "What?"

"You need to move your car! Quickly."

Dylan frowned. "I...was about to." What was wrong with him?

Mort rushed over to his car. He was rooting around in his pocket for his keys but they weren't there. He huffed and closed his car door. He looked behind him to see Dylan starting her car.

"Dylan!"

Dylan looked up as he rushed over to her car. He got to her window. "Wait a second."

"Why?"

"Just...wait."

Mort ran back into his house but his keys seemed to be missing. He had them last night, where did he put them?

_Okay, I drove to the motel, scared the life out of Dylan, drove home, came inside. Where did I put the keys?_

Mort huffed and hurried out of the cabin, running back to Dylan's car and getting in the passenger's side.

"What are you doing?" She asked.

"I need you to drive me to Riverdale."

"What? Mort, no. This is..."

"Someone burned down my house last night."

Dylan frowned. "What?"

"My house, my house with Amy, the house I used to live in. Someone burned it down last night and I need to get there quickly and I can't find my keys. Just...Do me a favour!"

Dylan sighed. "Fine."

She reversed the car and began driving.

"Do they know who did it?" She asked.

"I don't know." Mort replied. "I doubt it."

"Do you have any ideas?"

Mort sighed. "One."

"Really?"

"There's a guy...He's been hassling me about one of my books. Says I copied it from him."

"Did you?"

"No!" Mort said, looking at her quickly.

"Sorry." Dylan said. "But burning down someone's house to maintain a lie? That's commitment I don't think many people would have."

"He's a lunatic."

"So you definitely think it was him?"

"Who else could it have been?"

Dylan shrugged. "I don't know. So I'm guessing that was your wife on the phone?"

"Ex-wife. Yeah, she seemed pretty frantic."

"I can only imagine. Are you alright?"

Mort frowned. "Me?"

"Yeah, it was your house too."

"It wasn't going to be for much longer."

"But you had a history there. And if the person you think did it did do it, he did it to hurt you, not your ex-wife."

Mort was getting agitated again. "Look, I appreciate you driving me and all but this isn't really something I want to discuss."

Dylan sighed. "Fine. Sorry."

"Don't worry about it." Mort said, not even really listening.

Dylan rolled her eyes. "So, who is this guy that you think did it?"

Mort looked at her. "Is that your business?"

"Well, I've been at your house for days and I haven't seen anyone. But I have been in the town, maybe I've met him."

Mort didn't want to tell her. "I doubt it."

"You never know. If he's hassling you, maybe he saw me at your property. I'm thinking about myself here. The guy sounds crazy."

Mort sighed. "His name is John Shooter."

Mort nearly fell forward when Dylan stepped on the breaks suddenly. He put his hands up against the dashboard to stop himself before looking at her quickly.

"John Shooter?" She asked angrily. "Shooter? The guy with the manuscript? The guy whose name you were shouting as you barged into my room last night? The guy you thought I would know?"

"Look..."

"You thought I had something to do with him?" She yelled. "You thought I was lying to you and was really helping this guy who is insane? That's why you burst in on me last night? What the hell made you think I would possibly be involved?"

"You left the manuscript on my table and didn't tell me about it!"

"I forgot!"

"I have a mad man after me and that's his manuscript! Sorry for being a little paranoid when it turns up out of nowhere! I thought it was a message!"

"This isn't some gangster movie! I'm sure if this guy is capable of burning down a house, he doesn't need me to leave you messages!"

"He didn't burn down the house when I thought that!" Mort huffed. "Look, I am sorry I doubted you. I was already a bit of a mess and Shooter turning up didn't do me any favours. I got a little paranoid and I took it out on you. And I am sorry but could you please just drive me to the home I lived in for years which is currently a pile of ashes?"

Dylan sighed and started driving again. They were in complete silence for a few minutes.

"I'm sorry."

Mort looked at Dylan with a frown. "What are you sorry for?"

"You just got this terrible news and I turned it and made it about myself. If this Shooter guy is threatening you and burning down homes, he's obviously dangerous and has you under a lot of stress. I just...You thinking I could be involved in something like that got to me. I have my own little paranoia, I guess."

Mort raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Yeah but I understand what you're going through."

"You do?"

"Who wouldn't?" Dylan asked with a shrug but she wasn't entirely convincing in trying to be casual.

Mort nearly went flying when she stopped the car suddenly again.

"Stop doing that!"

"Mort?"

"Why did you stop again?"

"This guy wants to hurt you?"

"Yeah."

Dylan looked at him. "Your dog?"

Mort remembered. "Chico..."

"Do you want me to turn around?"

Mort looked at her. "I need to get to..."

"Mort, we've been driving for like five minutes. Which would you prefer, your wife being angry that you took a few minutes longer than you should have or a dead dog?"

Mort didn't need to think. "Yeah, turn the car around. Around, now."

Dylan nodded. "Right."

* * *

Dylan slowed down her car when she saw all the fire engines and police cars. She looked to see Mort looking out the window and felt incredible sympathy for him. He mightn't have lived there anymore but he had spent years making that house a home. She stopped the car a little away from the scene.

"Go." She said. "Don't worry, I'll mind Chico."

Mort looked at her. "You're not coming out to see...?"

"This is about you and your wife." Dylan said, shaking her head. "It's not my business. I'm just doing you a favour. You can call me when you want me to pick you up."

Mort frowned. "No, I'll get a cab. You don't have to..."

Dylan smiled. "And what about him?" She asked, tilting her head to indicate to the backseat. Mort looked back to see Chico lying on the seat and looking up at him.

Mort looked back at Dylan. "I suppose I'll call you then."

"Take all the time you need." Dylan said. "I'm sure Chico wouldn't mind a day in the park."

"He has arthritis and is half blind."

"I never said it would be an eventful day in the park."

Mort smiled at her a little. "Thank you for this."

"No problem. Go."

Mort nodded and got out of the car.

Dylan watched him walk over to the scene and get hugged by who she assumed was his wife.

_Pretty._

_Not that I care._

_Why would I? The guy clearly has some issues he needs to deal._

_So do you._

_That's why caring what his wife looks like is ridiculous. I can't think of any man in that way, especially Mort. The guy burst into my room in the middle of the night. Issues._

_Then why can't you stop looking at him?_

Dylan sighed and started her car up again. "Come on Chico; let's go find some fun activities for blind, arthritic dogs and crazy women."

* * *

While he wasn't one to be chatty at the best of times, Dylan was surprised by how quiet Mort was after she picked him up. She had asked all the rights things, seeing how he was and tried not to get too personal about what was going to happen and everything but he barely spoke.

"So does this Shooter guy ring any bells for the police?"

Mort frowned at her. "Why would he?"

Dylan shrugged. "Maybe he's known to have a record or something."

Mort looked out ahead of him again. "He's Southern. I doubt they'd know if he had."

"But you mentioned him to them?"

"Of course, why wouldn't I?"

"No reason." Dylan said, stopping the conversation. He wasn't really being easy to talk to at all.

"How was Chico?" Mort asked after a few minutes of awkward silence.

"Fine." Dylan replied. "He just mainly lay around on a park bench while I took pictures."

"Thank you for taking care of him."

"It's not a problem."

They were plunged into that awkward silence again and neither of them really knew how to fix it. Mort didn't want to talk to her but felt he should. But his mind was firmly on what Ted had said to him.

_Shooter's Bay._

_Maybe Ted has something to do with it._

_You thought that about Dylan last night! You're getting paranoid again._

_Okay, couple of things. Dylan doesn't have anything against me whereas I have yet to sign divorce papers and Teddy would probably be getting antsy about that. Ted actually gave me a clue that he could know Shooter._

_You thought the manuscript was Dylan's clue._

_Dylan doesn't have a motive for doing it! Ted does._

"Well, here we are." Dylan said and Mort realised the car had slowed down, eventually coming to a stop. He looked out the window to see his cabin.

"Sorry." He said. "Blanked out for a second there. Thinking."

Dylan nodded. "Well, I hope everything goes okay for you, Mort. I'm sure the police will catch this Shooter guy now they know about him."

Mort frowned. She was leaving? He looked out at the night sky.

_Of course she is. What do you want her to do? Tuck you in and check under the bed for monsters?_

_At this point? Wouldn't say no._

"I'll see you tomorrow then." Mort said, getting out and going to get Chico.

Dylan frowned as he opened the door to the backseat of the car. "What?"

Mort looked up at her. "What?"

"Tomorrow?"

"Yeah? You know, your pictures?"

"You changed your mind, remember? Never wanted to see me again?"

Mort did remember. "Well, I...That was...The least I could do after all you did for me today is let you finish what you started."

Dylan thought about it. Could she really afford to let herself be around here with everything she learned today? "I'll think about it."

Mort frowned but quickly hid it. "Sure. See ya."

"Bye Mort."

He closed the door to her car and she reversed, driving off. Mort watched her go before going into the house.

* * *

"It's a good ending..."

Mort was lying in bed later that night, going over everything. As if his year hadn't been bad enough with the break up of his marriage and now divorce papers he couldn't seem to sign, he also had to deal with Shooter ruining his already ruined life. His work was pretty much the only thing Mort had left and now there was someone coming along and belittling it, trying to take that away from Mort too.

Mort got up off his bed and went down to his couch.

_Don't do it._

_Don't do this. You'll regret it._

Mort picked up the phone and began dialling.

_Why am I doing this?_

He heard it ringing and eventually, it was picked up.

"Hello?"

"Dylan?"

Dylan, who was lying on her motel bed, turned from being on her back to on her side with a frown. "Mort? Are you alright?"

"Have you ever read Secret Window?"

"Eh...Yeah, I think so. That's the short story, right? In your 'Dime' book?"

"Yeah, that's it." Mort said, not knowing what was making him do this. "What did you think of it?"

"I liked it. A little dark but nothing wrong with that."

Mort nodded. "What did you think of the ending?"

"With the shovel?"

"The very ending."

Dylan was very confused. "I enjoyed it, Mort. I liked the story. What is this about?"

"The book Shooter thinks I plagiarised is Secret Window."

"I thought it was something called Sowing Season?"

"Same story, different name. And different ending." Mort said. "He wants me to rewrite the ending his original way as well as giving him credit."

"You're worried his ending is better?"

"I don't know. My ending was good, I thought."

"Mort, don't give into this man. You have the police on your side now."

"I don't know if they'll do any good. They might not even be able to prove it was Shooter who did it."

"Well, did he do anything else that would have the police considering him as a suspect?"

"Besides threaten me?"

"Yeah."

Mort sighed. "He roughed me up a bit, I suppose."

"Roughed you up?"

"I found a mouse in my shower the other night." Mort left out the part about his paranoia making him think there was someone in his bathroom and breaking his shower door because with him bursting into her room last night, he had a feeling she got it. He was paranoid. "I was letting it out and Shooter was there. I tried to tell him it was my story, there is a magazine to prove I wrote it before him, I just didn't have it at the time. He threatened Amy and said I needed to fix the story. Then he pinned me to a wall with a shovel."

"When did this happen? Last night?"

Mort knew what she was thinking. Did this instance tip Mort over the edge into panicking and accusing her? "The night before. I got the magazine yesterday. That's where I was. But no sign of Shooter, he didn't turn up. Maybe he was in the city."

"Is there proof for any of this?"

"I have bruises on my arms where he grabbed me."

"Did you show them to the police?"

Mort grimaced, realising that could have been a good idea. "No."

"Well, you should. That's assault. They can even call him out with that alone. It won't do as much as charging him with arson along with it would but it could be enough."

"It won't be. It won't ever be enough. Not until I change that ending."

"Mort, if you didn't steal the story..."

"I didn't."

"Then you don't have to change a thing or credit anyone. You wrote the story you wanted and that's all you can do. I know this Shooter guy has gotten you rattled but if you like what you wrote, that's all that matters. Not what I think, not what Shooter thinks..."

"Amy always hated that story."

_Why did I just say that?_

"Amy isn't your wife anymore. It doesn't matter what she likes and what she hates. Newsflash Mort Rainey, you wrote the story years ago. It's been read, it has an audience and they're happy with it. You don't need Amy to like it and you don't need Shooter to approve it. Leave your story the way it is because that is what people read it for."

Mort nodded though she couldn't see it. "Thanks Dylan. I didn't wake you, did I?" He looked at the clock to see it was going on three in the morning.

_Damnit._

"No, you didn't. I'm still up."

Mort frowned. "You are? What are you doing?"

"There's not much to do in a motel room besides lie around. I just can't sleep. But you should. It's not my house that burned down last night. Get some sleep, Mort. And just, check in with the police tomorrow. Okay?"

"Yeah...sure."

"Goodnight."

"Night."

Mort hung up the phone and tapped his fingers against his jaw.

_What the hell am I doing?_

_I have to check in with police, I have to deal with burned down houses; I have a mad man threatening me._

_I shouldn't be getting anyone else involved in this. Least of all someone completely uninvolved like Dylan._

_I need to stay away from her.

* * *

_

**I don't know why but I love the image of Mort with a helpless expression just standing outside watching someone drive away with little Chico in his arms**_. _**=P **

**Thanks for reading! Please Review!  
**


	5. Gone

**To mort(but who I'm guessing is lori =P): Thank you! Lol, maybe I can get onto Stephen King and make him change his story to mine! I'll even buy a big black hat!**

**Here's Chapter 5!  
**

Dylan sat in her room the next morning, considering her options.

_I should just go up there. What's the worst that could happen?_

_That Shooter guy could show up and shoot me._

_I can't be around that atmosphere. Not now._

_But I can't just abandon Mort when he confided in me and was so...helpless yesterday. He needs someone to talk to. _

_You need someone to talk to too. Someone who is stable and secure and does not have huge problems of their own. That is not Mort and you are not that for him._

Dylan tried to clear her head for a second. No common sense, no being bashed over the head with reasoning and arguing with herself. Just a clear head with one question.

_Do I want to go up there and see him?_

Dylan thought for a second before getting off the bed, grabbing her camera and bag and walking out of the room.

* * *

Mort frowned when he heard a knocking on his door. He walked down the stairs and opened it.

"Dylan?"

Dylan smiled. "Hi. How are you feeling today?"

"I'm...okay."

"Did you sleep?"

"A little."

"That's good. Hey boy." She said when Chico came up to her. Mort frowned at his antisocial dog trying to be social.

"I thought you weren't sure about coming back?" Mort asked.

Dylan looked from Chico to him. "Now I am."

Mort nodded. "Come in for a second."

He walked into the house and Dylan followed him in, closing the door and putting her bag on the table. "What is it?"

Mort turned back to her.

_You have to do it._

"Dylan, listen, you've really been a great...person to have around and I've really appreciated it..."

Dylan's smile dropped. "You have got to be kidding me."

"I don't think you should come back here." Mort said. "I don't want you back here."

"You're doing this again? Seriously?"

"I'm..."

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Dylan nearly shouted. "Look, I understand you have your own things going on, big things, big problems but I am not some stress ball you can pull out and take your frustration out on when you need to! If you don't want me here, fine! But don't tell you don't want me here, then you do, then you don't, then you do, then you don't because that's literally what you're doing and I cannot take it anymore."

Mort waited until she stopped. "Are you finished?"

Dylan looked at him. "Yes."

"I'm sorry things didn't work out."

Dylan scoffed before grabbing her bag and storming out of the cabin. "Goodbye, Mister Rainey."

Mort sighed when she slammed the door.

_Good going._

_I can't deal with Shooter using her against me too. He's already done it with Amy and I can't do it anymore. _

_Whoa, Dylan isn't on the same level as Amy. Amy is my..._

_Ex. She's my ex-wife._

_And yet, you haven't signed the divorce papers._

_One disaster at a time. First, Shooter._

_He can get here, see the magazine and go back to Ted to let him know his little plan backfired but until he does, I can't have anyone around that can be used against me._

_Pretty shitty way to treat her when she's only ever been nice to you._

_If I had told her the real reason, she never would have left._

_So you pretty much treat her like garbage?_

Mort growled, grabbing his keys. "She's going to get a restraining order. Definitely."

Mort got into his car and began driving to the motel but was greeted with a curious sight on the way. Ted in the gas station. Mort turned and pulled in, getting out of his car.

"What are you doing here?"

"Matter of fact, I was just on my way over to your place."

Mort nodded. Of course he was. Because Mort's day wasn't bad enough. "Where's your buddy?"

"Came alone."

"Sure you did." Mort walked closer, refusing to feel intimidated by these antics anymore. "I know what you're up to."

Ted grew confused but just wanted things over with so didn't let it show too much. "Uh...Look Mort, a lot of what's going on right now is my fault. Most of it, in fact."

Mort was getting more annoyed. "What do you want?"

"I want you out of our life." Mort watched as he reached for something in is car and pulled out some papers. "Gotta sign your papers, Mort."

Mort nudged the papers away from himself. "My divorce papers?"

"Mhmm."

He really couldn't believe this. "Tell her to send them to my lawyer."

"Yeah. Well she did and, he said that you won't return his calls for weeks."

"That's what this is all about? Getting me to sign the settlement?"

Ted could see Mort getting more agitated and realised them getting angry wouldn't solve anything. "No, no. Just calm down."

"Money! All about money."

"No, it's not about money. No. What this is about is getting this thing done. Cause I'm afraid if we don't, well, who knows where it might go and I think you know what I'm talking about."

"Well, Teddy. I think I do, but here's the problem: I don't respond well to intimidation, makes me feel," Mort shrugged. "Icky. You know..." Mort's anger over everything got to him to the point where the urge to just push Ted physically to make him back off became too much.

Ted put his hands up. "Whoa. Hey, hey. You know, I'm attempting to have a  
normal conversation here."

"Oh really? Well, this whole thing is out of your control now. You know it, and I know it. You started this shit. I'm gonna finish it. Now do me a favour, go back and tell that your filthy little friend."

Mort pushed him again and in retaliation, Ted went to punch him only to have Mort move out of the way and Ted's fist connect with his car window. He let out a cry of pain. "God!"

Mort looked at him for a second before turning and walking off. "Bummer, Ted."

Mort walked back to his car and got in, driving off. When he got to the motel, he knocked on Dylan's door but received no answer. Frowning, he walked into the reception.

"Oh no, get out!" The motel manager said when he saw him. "You ain't allowed anywhere near my business anymore!"

Mort huffed. "Look, I'm not here to cause any trouble."

"That's all you do."

"I'm just looking for..."

"If you don't leave, I'm calling the police."

"Look, I'm just looking for the woman who was staying in room four."

"You mean the room you broke into? Among others..."

Mort was getting more annoyed. "If she didn't call the cops on me, I think that should tell you that I know her. Look, could you just tell me where she is?"

The man looked at Mort sourly. "She ain't here anymore. Came back, grabbed her stuff, paid and left."

"How long ago?"

"You ain't getting anymore outta me. I only told you that much so you would leave. Now go on, get."

Mort turned and left, driving back to his cabin. When he got in, he found her card and dialled.

"Hello?"

"Dylan? It's Mort."

"No."

Mort frowned. "What?"

"No. Whatever you want, it's no. I'm not doing you anymore favours or listening to anymore problems and I'm definitely not going back up there. I don't care if that damn lake just turned into wine, you can keep your lake and you can your privacy. I am done."

"Dylan..."

"What do you want? I'm gone, alright? Gone from your cabin, gone from Tashmore, gone from your life. What else could you possibly want?"

"Would you let me talk?"

Dylan stayed silent.

"Look, I know I've been having a few...problems."

"No, I have problems. You're having some sort of breakdown."

"I suppose I deserved that."

"I'm sorry, Mort. I can't do it. I have my own problems, you know. My own things to deal with, I can't deal with yours anymore. I just can't. Goodbye."

With that, Dylan hung up the phone. Mort looked at his receiver before putting it down.

"Fantastic..."

* * *

"We have a problem."

Dylan frowned when the editor of Estrella magazine, Vivian Chambers walked over to where she was sorting pictures for the layout a few days later. "What problem?"

"The photos you took?"

"What about them?"

"You never got any permission to use them."

"Yes, I did."

"Not any written statement." Vivian landed a contract on her desk. "Get him to sign those and while you're at it, get him to let us use his name. He's no Stephen King but he is a popular author and celebrity power is celebrity power."

"Can't someone else do it?" Dylan asked. "He didn't seem too taken with me."

"I don't care if you have to arrive at his door step in lingerie holding keys to a new sports car, get him to sign off on this."

Vivian walked away and Dylan hung her head.

_Crap.

* * *

_

Dylan walked up onto the porch and knocked on the front door. She had to frown when she heard something fall and Mort cursing. A few seconds later the door opened and Mort appeared looking a little worse for wear. Well, he usually did with his messy hair and rumpled clothes but now the smell of alcohol was attached and the air of drunkenness that surrounded him.

"Oh, it's you." He said.

"Hello to you too."

"Well, this has been lovely but if you'll excuse me..." Mort said and he went to close the door but Dylan stopped him.

"Wait. Believe it or not, I didn't come by just to say hey. I have..."

Mort interrupted her. "You didn't? Well you better come in then."

Mort walked away from the door and into the kitchen. Dylan sighed and followed him in. He was slouched at the kitchen table with a bottle of Jack Daniels.

"Drinking alone during the middle of the day? How...pathetic."

"Did you say you had a reason to be here? Please divulge and then get out."

"You just invited me in."

"Now you're snippy and I don't want you around anymore."

Dylan walked over closer to Mort and realised how pathetic he actually did look. She didn't know if she felt okay just walking away and leaving him alone. She sat down at the table.

"Mort, are you okay?"

"Peachey." Mort answered and he took another drink.

"Maybe you should give Mister Daniels a rest."

Mort made a non committal noise.

Dylan sighed. "Eh...I came here to get you to sign a release for the pictures and use of your name..."

"Sign, sign, sign. That's all you women ever want anymore."

Dylan frowned. "Okay. I also have a cheque for you from the magazine."

Dylan placed the paperwork on the table as Mort took another drink.

"Mort, maybe you should take a break."

"Maybe you should have a drink."

"What?"

Mort got up and went to get another glass before placing it in front of her and filling it up. He filled up his own glass and raised it up.

"Cheers."

"Mort, I..."

"I said cheers!"

Dylan rolled her eyes and picked up the glass. "Cheers."

The two downed their drinks.

"There." Dylan said. "Can you sign the..."

"More drinks."

"No Mort, I can't..."

"Cheers."

"Mort."

"Dylan."

"I'm going to go." Dylan said and she got up and walked away. Mort's voice stopped her.

"Why are you here?"

Dylan turned around. "What?"

"You live in the city which isn't that far away but you're up here in Tashmore? A place that you've admitted yourself isn't all that great yet instead of driving home to your own house and your own bed every night, you opted to stay in a dingy little motel and wait around until I made decisions. Why? It can't be the company. The town is filled with idiots and I do nothing but mess you around so why are you here?"

"I'm doing a job."

"You must have thousands and thousands of pictures."

"I like variety."

"It's a lake. It's pretty much the same thing every day. But even with me, why do you put up with it? What is it about where you live that makes me and my slander a suitable alternative? What's your secret?"

Dylan put down her bag. "Maybe I will have that drink."

"Cheers."

"Cheers."

* * *

"So then this interviewer, who looks about twelve, asks me did I know vintage glasses were going to come back into style when I started wearing them. At that point, I realised the interview may have taken a turn for the worst..."

Dylan laughed. "I don't know who to be more embarrassed for."

"Oh definitely her. I made up preposterous lies for the rest of the interview."

Dylan smiled but then gasped. "Wait; was that the interview where you spoke about getting all your ideas from visions sent by Indonesian monks after not eating and sleeping for a week? You just had to fast and then when you came around after the nirvana, a book was written in front of you?"

"You read that interview?"

"Who didn't? It was passed all around the office to embarrass Sandra."

"That was the name of the interviewer."

"Yeah, she's an idiot."

"You know her?"

"Know her? She's a friend of mine. Well I say friend... She works at one of the magazines I do work for."

Both Mort and Dylan had been drinking for a while now, so long that it was night, not that either of them really took notice. The two were a little worse for wear. It had gotten to the point where instead of insulting each other, they were just telling stories about other stupid people, drinking all the while.

"Speaking of my magazine, you still need to sign the form."

Mort sighed and picked up the contract before signing it. "There. I wish signing everything was that easy."

"Divorce papers?"

Mort looked at her. "Hey, look at you butting into my business again."

"Sorry, I just know how hard it is to finally end something you thought was going to last."

Mort raised an eyebrow. "You're divorced? Is that your secret?"

"No, I'm not divorced. I was engaged but it...it didn't work out."

"You cheat on him?"

Dylan threw him an outraged look. "No!"

"He cheat on you?"

"No."

Mort gave up and was pouring another drink when Dylan spoke up again.

"He tried to kill me."

Mort stopped pouring and looked at her with wide eyes.

"What?"

"Yeah, I came home late from work one night and when I got inside, there was broken glass everywhere. I got nervous so I called him but the place seemed to be empty. I should have called someone or something but your brain doesn't really work in that situation. His car was outside so he should have been home but I couldn't find him. When I got to the living room, I felt someone wrap...their hand around my neck and push me into the wall. It was Ryan. He looked furious, like he wasn't himself. His hand around my neck wouldn't let me breath and I didn't know what to do. I eventually managed to push him away and get into the kitchen. He caught me though and before I knew it, he stabbed me."

Mort, who had been silently listening, was shocked. "Your scar..."

"From the piece of glass he used. I remember it was from the pane on the kitchen door. I can't really remember much else but I somehow got out and went to a neighbour who called the police. I don't remember any of that though."

Mort was astounded. "Well, that was...wow."

"You know what the weird thing is? We went through the entire trial and everything and not once did he say why he did it. He pleaded guilty and is in jail now but whenever he was asked why he did it, he never gave a reason. He only said he just did it. What is that? 'I just felt like it?' Who just feels like killing?"

Dylan was obviously very upset but she seemed to want to talk about it. Maybe because she was drunk.

"Did he ever hurt you before?"

Dylan, who had been looking at the table, looked up at Mort. "No...Yes...Sometimes. Sometimes his anger just got the better of him."

Mort's eyebrows rose. She was still defending the guy? She stayed with him? "Hey, anger gets to everyone. That doesn't give you the right to go around and hurt the people you're supposed to love."

"I know that. I do. But I did love him. And I thought he loved me. I don't know, maybe it was my own fault."

"How on earth was that your own fault?"

"Well I guess I can be quite taxing at times."

"That's not true."

Dylan chuckled. "Says the guy who has thrown me out of his house countless times."

"Okay but I don't think you deserve to be dead. There a lot of people who are way worse than you. Like your fiancé."

_And Ted and Amy._

"I don't think he deserves to die though. Just be in horrific pain for a very, very long time." Dylan said. "But I had to have done something..."

Mort listened as Dylan blamed herself for what happened to her. It was weird. Here he was, not taking any responsibility in the break up of his marriage because Amy was the one who cheated. Here was Dylan who had only come home one night and she found the person who was supposed to protect her in her life trying to kill her for apparently no reason and she was saying they were both in the wrong. It really kind of put things into perspective. She had gotten up and went back to work and carried on. Mort hid himself away in a cabin for six months.

"How did you do it?" He asked.

"Do what?"

"Go back to normal. After that. How did you not just shut down?"

"I couldn't. I would have driven myself crazy if I just stopped and dwelled on everything. I needed to get back to normal to survive."

"Did you ever talk to anyone about it?"

"Like a doctor? When I was in hospital, they made me go to a councillor but I didn't stay at that for long. How can someone who doesn't know me tell me anything about myself?"

"Because they're trained to."

"Well they should spend their time dealing with people who actually need them. People like my fiancé...my ex fiancé."

"How long ago was it?"

"Four months ago."

"That short?"

"Yup."

"Wait. You said his name was Ryan, is that Ryan Callaghan?"

Dylan looked at him. "Yeah, how did you..."

"I remember reading about that. I followed the trial in the newspaper."

Dylan sighed. "Along with every other person I know."

"I've been there. Author Mort Rainey is to divorce his wife of twelve years, yadda, yadda, yadda..."

The two stayed silent and drank more.

"So how are you now?" Mort asked. He found himself uncomfortable around women because of Amy. How did Dylan cope with being around anyone?

"I'm...okay. I have a big family so they helped. I stayed with my some of them for a while. I put the house up for sale but no real interest. Just a few weirdoes wanting to check out the place where a guy snapped for no reason and tried to murder his fiancé. But other than that, I'm doing as well as I can."

"How are you around people?"

"Everyone's been really...nice. Always asking me how I am and stuff. I kind of like being alone and not being alone. It's weird. I don't like the looks I get now. The kind of pitying, 'oh look how brave she is', condescending looks that people think I don't see. I especially hate them because half of the people didn't even talk to me before; they only do so now to get good gossip or whatever. But then again, being alone at night can be pretty frightening after something like that."

Mort nodded. Ever since Shooter had been bothering him, he knew the feeling.

"What about you?" Dylan asked. Hey, if he could ask her about her life...

"What do you mean?" Mort asked suspiciously.

"What do you think? Your divorce."

"There's not much to say. She went off with another guy, I caught her, divorce."

"But you haven't signed the papers yet?"

"So what?"

"Well, are you hoping for some sort of reconciliation?"

Mort took the bottle away sulkily and held it tightly to him. "No more booze for you."

"Fine, I'm still gonna wait for an answer."

Mort thought about it. "No I don't. She cheated on me. It's obvious that our marriage is no longer doing well."

"Just a tad."

"No, I'd never be able to trust her again. I kind of hate her now. Even her voice annoys me."

"Do you distrust all women now?"

"Do you distrust all men?"

"No."

"Really?"

"Not all guys are going to try and kill me. Ryan was...I don't even know but I'm not going to let him ruin my life anymore. That being said, I haven't been remotely interested in any guy since."

"Well, that's not a bad thing. I haven't been interested in any woman."

"But you don't trust women."

Mort sighed. "I trust women."

"Really?"

"I don't know. People kind of annoy me now."

Dylan nodded. "I know the feeling."

"This is the most I've spoken about my divorce actually."

"Well, we're both quite drunk so none of us will remember. Do you really think I'd tell you about Ryan if I thought you'd remember?"

"Why wouldn't you?"

"Because. Why would I?"

"I told you about Shooter."

"I think I earned that. You've been messing me around since you met me."

"I have not."

"Yes, you have and you know it. I understand that you're bitter over your wife but why do you hate everyone else? And yourself?"

"I don't hate myself."

"Mort, come on. Do you really want to try and convince me of that when you're sitting around drinking Jack Daniels by yourself?"

"Well...I mean...It's just..."

"What?"

"I'm...Mister Rainey!"

Dylan frowned. "You're annoyed over your name?"

"I'm Mister Rainey now! I used to be a Mort. Mort used to be fun and make jokes and was casual to people, not to mention nice. Now, I'm a Mister Rainey. When did that happen? When did I stop being a Mort?"

"You can be a Mort again." Dylan said. "You just have to relax a bit. Stop making people feel uncomfortable around you, you know?"

Mort frowned. "I make people uncomfortable?"

"Well...kinda." Dylan said. "You make them uncomfortable because you make it very clear you're uncomfortable around them."

"No, that's just you."

"I've never seen you around anyone else but me." Dylan pointed out.

"I like my privacy."

"Funny, so do serial murderers. You can't say things like that to the girl who's alone with you at your secluded lake cabin where no one can hear her scream."

Mort frowned at her joke considering what she'd just told him. "That's not funny."

Dylan looked at him. "I didn't tell you so you would pity me. If I thought you would, I wouldn't have told you. If you're going to talk about it, at least talk about it like you do. I told you, Mort Rainey, because you're not afraid to hurt my feelings."

"I wouldn't use that against you."

"I know but still, it's nice to have someone not think of me as this precious little flower who will crumble under the slightest pressure. But also, it's because I am very drunk and I needed to get it out and you're very drunk so you probably won't even remember so who better to tell it to? It's not a comfortable thought. At least, not when I'm not drunk. If that makes sense."

"I got it."

"He still writes to me."

"Who?"

"Ryan."

"He writes to you?"

"Yup. I've never opened his letters and never replied but he still writes."

"Surely he shouldn't be allowed make contact with you?"

"Well he does."

"Can't you complain to someone about it?"

"I should but...I don't know. I doubt they'd stop. I just want to forget he ever existed but that'll never happen anyway."

Mort looked at her miserable expression. "Here." He said and he poured her another drink. She smiled at him.

"Thanks."

That may have been the first nice thing he had done for her. Weird.

"Oh God, you're not going to become of those people who starts to be really nice to me, are you?"

Mort looked at her as if she were crazy. "God no. You weren't nice when you heard about my divorce."

"I tried to be nice from the start."

"You gave up pretty quickly."

"Well, it's hard when you're being so cold."

"I'm not cold. I'm damaged."

"Well, so am I. I still try to be nice."

"That's why you've spent the last week up here on your own."

"You've spent the last six months up here on your own."

"Yeah, so when someone invades my space, I get a little defensive."

"Invading your space? I took some pictures outside your house."

"Well I was polite at the start."

"You were sarcastic and once again, uncomfortable at the start."

"Most people don't catch on to that."

"How?"

"Because as I've claimed before, this town is filled with idiots."

"So go back to the city."

"No. I want to stay in my cabin alone."

"Then why let me in?"

"I tried not to but you're always around."

"Well, you won't see me anymore."

Mort looked at her. "What? Why?"

"What do you mean why? I'm done. I'm not coming back like you asked. I'm gone back to the city. I'm finished up here."

"So you won't be around anymore?"

"Nope."

Mort didn't know why this made him feel kind of upset.

_Who cares if she's not around anymore?_

_Well, she is kind of entertaining._

_So is a TV. Get a TV._

_TVs don't interact back._

_Chico does. Watch TV with Chico._

_Dylan isn't that bad._

"So, what are you going to do when you get back to the city?"

Dylan shrugged. "Just keep doing what I always do. Work, house hunting..."

"You don't have a house?"

"No, for sale. Remember? I can't stay there anymore."

"Oh right, sorry. Where are you staying?"

"Well, I was staying with family for a while but I didn't want to go completely crazy so I'm staying in a hotel. I figured that'd get me moving on finding somewhere."

"You live in a hotel?"

"Not live. Just currently residing."

Mort nodded. "You should get a cabin."

Dylan laughed. "So I can be just like you."

Mort thought about his life as it was lately. "Maybe you shouldn't get a cabin."

Dylan looked up at the clock. "Oh my God, I didn't know it was so late. I should really be going."

Mort looked at her. "Really?"

"Yeah."

"You're in no position to drive."

"I'll call a cab."

"The phone is over there." Mort said and he pointed towards the phone on the coffee table.

"Thanks." Dylan got up and walked over to it.

Mort watched her go.

_She's leaving and she's not coming back. Why does that bother me?

* * *

_

**I do love me the Mort Rainey glasses!**

**Thanks for reading! Please Review!  
**


	6. Surprise

**To lori: I thought it was quite funny! Thanks!**

**Here's Chapter 6!  
**

Dylan woke up to a very unpleasant feeling in her head.

_I really hate hangovers._

Knowing that lifting her eyelids would cause the sun to pour in and cause excruciating pain to her already sensitive condition, Dylan decided to keep them closed. She snuggled further into the bed to get more comfortable but she froze with fright when she felt someone behind her turn and wrap their arm around her bare waist. Dylan's eyes shot open and although, the sun did assault her head, her mind was much too focused on where she was.

_This isn't my room. My house. I'm naked. Oh God..._

Dylan turned around in the bed, causing her bed mate to wake. Mort blearily opened his eyes and realising the same as Dylan, took his arm off her waist and the two shot away from each other. Dylan whisked the sheet up to cover herself and Mort looked at her.

"Dylan?"

"Yes?"

"No, I was making sure." He said and he went for his glasses. When he put them on he looked at her properly. His face turned shocked as he realised what they had done together.

"Do you remember last night?" He asked, his voice trying to be normal and failing.

Dylan nodded hesitantly. "I'm beginning to. You?"

"Oh yeah."

Dylan's eyes widened. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Mort rushed to correct himself. "No, I didn't mean it like that. It wasn't bad, you weren't bad...Not that what we did was good, well I mean it was good but I didn't mean 'oh yeah' in a pervy way. It was just what I said. It was...I'm gonna leave it there."

Dylan nodded; at least he was as confused as she was. "Look, this, what we did, doesn't have to be a bad thing. I mean, we're both consenting adults who had a little too much to drink and ended up in bed together. It happens." Despite her reasoning, Dylan's voice was quick and high which told Mort she was trying to convince herself more than Mort.

Mort nodded, trying to find what she said true. "Yeah, I mean we're just two people who wanted to have sex and did, nothing wrong with that."

"You said wanted."

Mort looked at her and his thought process became the same as hers. Wanted indicated attraction, attraction to each other instead of just drunken sex. Were they attracted to each other? Mort decided to skim over the issue for now seeing as they were both still naked.

"So, you remember last night? Because it's gonna make me feel like there's a lawsuit against me in the future if I remember and you don't."

Dylan shook her head. "No, don't worry I remember. I remember a lot of alcohol and then I was about to leave when you pointed out that I was in no condition to drive which we seemed to have forgotten..."

"So, you called a cab..."

"And then we were kissing..."

"A lot of kissing..."

"And then the clothes were gone."

"Yeah. That's pretty much what happened."

Both stayed in an awkward silence for a while. Neither really knew what to say. After a while, Dylan spoke up.

"Mort?"

Mort looked at her. "Hmm?"

"Could I use your shower?"

"Oh, yeah. Yes, of course. Go right ahead."

"Thanks." Dylan stayed where she was for a few seconds. "Could you turn around?"

Mort looked at her with a raised eyebrow which she felt she needed to defend herself against. "I know you've already seen everything but we're sober now so could you just..."

"Fine." Mort turned around and Dylan got up, getting his robe and wrapping it around her.

"Okay, you can look." Mort turned around and looked up at her.

"Well, I'm going to go for a shower and then I'm...I'm gonna go." Dylan said before walking into his bathroom and closing the door behind her.

Mort watched her go and after she closed it behind her, he flopped back down on the bed.

_What the hell did I do? I mean, Dylan? She's Dylan! Do I even like her that way?_

_Apparently._

_But, she's Dylan. She's just someone I put up with._

_Not really. You think about her when she's not around._

_I think about my lawyer when he's not around, doesn't mean I want to have sex with him._

_You think about Dylan fondly._

_No, she's annoying._

_She's a challenge, you like a challenge. Plus, you think she's attractive._

_Well, yeah but once again, she's Dylan._

_And there's the fact that you haven't been with a woman in a very long time, even before your divorce. You and Amy weren't sleeping together for a good while before she cheated. You're only human. Not to mention, you did enjoy last night._

Mort wanted this train of thought to stop. He got up and got dressed before going downstairs. He found a mess waiting for him. Clothes were thrown everywhere. Deciding she'd probably want them, Mort collected up her clothes and brought them back upstairs and put them on the bed. He went downstairs again and went into the kitchen. He was eating cereal when he heard her come downstairs.

"Thanks for letting me use your shower." She said and the awkwardness was still evident.

"No problem. Do you want some...food?" He asked and winced.

_Smooth, why not just ask how much you owe her?_

"No, I'm good. I'm just gonna go." She said and Mort nodded. He got up and followed her to the door. Dylan turned to him before she opened the door.

"Mort, I really hope things aren't weird. That's the last thing I want."

"Oh, oh no. Nothing's weird." He said. "I'm fine. Are you?"

Dylan rushed to answer. "I...I am. Good. I'm glad we're...good."

Before either could say anything else, their lips were on each others again. The kiss was filled with passion and in a second, Mort was ripping off her jacket and throwing it to the floor. He lifted her up while they were still in the kiss and brought her to the couch, their lips never parting.

* * *

"Okay, that was the last time."

"Definitely the last time."

"We cannot do it anymore."

"Nope."

It had been hours and every time had been the last time for Mort and Dylan. For the first few times, they had even gotten dressed and Dylan had every intention of leaving, the same way Mort had every intention of letting her but somehow they would find themselves tangled up and out of their clothes again. Now they were sitting on his couch, her with a blanket wrapped around her and him in his robe.

"I mean, this is insane." Dylan said, wrapping the blanket tighter around her. "You're in the middle of a divorce and I'm..."

Mort looked at her. "What?"

"I'm...not looking for anything right now. Same as you."

"Right. Yeah, we shouldn't be doing this. Even if it does feel good."

"Really good."

"Great. But there's literally no where to go from here."

"There's not. Which is why we should stop now."

"Which is what we're doing. We're stopping."

"We've stopped."

Mort looked at her sitting next to him and couldn't help but notice how pretty she looked when she was nervous.

_No, stop that. She is not pretty._

_She is. Very. You think she's very beautiful._

_I can't have sex with her again._

_You can. You're going to. You know you are._

Before Mort could stop himself, he reached over and kissed her. Dylan liked it, so she turned her head properly to deepen the kiss. They sank back into the couch and Mort lay on top of Dylan who enjoyed the feeling of his weight upon her. They parted and as Mort was about to kiss her again, Dylan looked up at him.

"Are we really going to do this again?"

"Do you want to?"

"Yes but we just said there was no where to go from here."

"It doesn't mean we can't."

"I know, it's just...maybe we're doing more harm to ourselves than good."

"Not if we both know what we're doing. We're both adults and we're both enjoying ourselves. Who says we have to stop?"

Dylan was surprised at Mort talking like this but not as much as he was at himself but like he thought a while ago, it had been a long time and he was only human. Plus, this was the first time in a long time that he was actually enjoying himself.

"So," Dylan said. "You're saying we could still continue to sleep together even though we're not going to be together?"

"If you want to."

Dylan thought about it. Just sex. Just a way of getting out some of the frustration they had and a way to cure that loneliness but without the strains of a relationship. After all, Dylan never really had any kind of relationship with Mort. He was someone she knew well enough to consider this and who was going through something similar to her. Didn't they both deserve a little fun?

Dylan, having made her decision, brought her lips to Mort's. Mort responded eagerly and held her tighter against him. Though he was acting completely calm on the outside, his mind was shouting at him.

_What are you doing? Things like this never end well._

_It's just sex._

_Exactly. This isn't something you usually do. What's wrong with something sturdy?_

_I had something sturdy. Turns out it wasn't so sturdy. Now I have a way to relax and no relationship to bother me. Everything's perfect._

_Yeah, right.

* * *

_

**Good idea? Bad idea? Hmmm...**

**Thanks for reading! Please Review!  
**


	7. The Real World

**To Paige: Thank you! I do like my twists!**

**To lori: Hopefully they do! Thanks!**

**Here's Chapter 7!  
**

Dylan groaned when the sound of her phone ringing woke her. Not bothering to lift her head from the pillow, she groped the ground until she found her bag and pulled it out.

"Hello?"

"So, am I calling the police to go searching for your kidnappers or am I calling them to arrest you for robbing me?"

She kept her eyes closed but frowned at Vivian's words. "What?"

"Or am I calling them to arrest me for your murder?"

Dylan huffed. "What are you talking about?"

"What am I talking about? You've been missing for three days!"

"No, I haven't. I just haven't been...around."

"Yeah well there's something you've forgotten about while you've been not around. Your job? The magazine? The pictures? Where the hell have you been?"

Dylan cringed at her loud voice. "I've been busy."

"Busy? You're only supposed to be busy doing what I tell you! Get back here with those forms today if you ever want a job again!"

Dylan heard her hang up and put her phone down to go back to sleep but not long after, it rang again.

"Hello?"

"Did someone forget she has a family?"

Dylan grimaced. "No. I've just been busy."

"Too busy to call your own sister and let her know how you're doing?"

"I'm fine."

"Don't tell me you're fine. Show me. We're all getting together tonight at my place, all seven of us. Are you busy?"

Dylan finally lifted her head from the pillow and turned to look at Mort who was sleeping behind her. She put the phone to her chest to block her voice. "Am I busy tonight?"

"Well, I'm free." He said, lifting his head slightly.

Dylan smiled, putting the phone to her ear. "I'm busy."

"You're not busy."

Dylan's smile dropped. "What?"

"I wasn't really asking." Jen said. "I never really ask. Come on, Dylan, intelligence. You're coming over tonight and spending time with the sisters you haven't bothered with in weeks."

"I have..."

"Did I mention its Cathy's baby shower?"

Dylan sighed. "No, you did not. Okay, fine."

"Good, if you're feeling like an amazing sister, bake some cookies. And bring wine."

"She can't drink."

"But we can. Use your brain, Dylan! See you tonight. Love you."

"Yeah, whatever." She said, hanging up the phone. She looked back at Mort. "You're going to stay free tonight. I just got plans handed to me."

Mort turned and looked at her. "By who?"

"Sister. She thinks if families don't get together once every five minutes, we drift apart. It's also my sister's baby shower."

"You're going to be an aunt?"

"Going to be? Six sisters. Am an aunt. To five nephews and seven nieces. With another little niece or nephew on the way. Christmas is a bitch. But I gotta be there tonight. Sorry. Can I use your shower?"

"You're leaving now?"

"Have to. Vivian also called and will be looking for my head on a platter if I don't get into her today."

"I thought photographers worked freelance? How does this Vivian act like your boss if you don't just work at her magazine?"

Dylan put on his robe. "You don't have to work at the magazine for Vivian to be your boss. She's everyone's boss."

"That sounds unpleasant. You should stay here." Mort said, pulling her back onto the bed.

"And I would seriously love to but I have to start getting back to real life." Dylan replied though not stopping Mort from kissing her neck.

"Ugh, real life."

"I know but I still have to go because the annoying thing about real life is that it's real."

Mort looked at her. "This is real."

Dylan refrained saying 'No, it isn't.' She'd just spent the last few days here with Mort and they'd been amazing but the fact of the matter was that none of what they were doing was good for either of them. It wasn't real, it was just...satisfactory.

Dylan smiled and kissed him. "I still have to go."

She got up and walked into the bathroom before turning back. "What exactly happened your shower door?" She smirked.

Mort sat up slightly. "Mouse."

Dylan looked at him sceptically. "A mouse broke your shower door?"

"A mouse...made me jump and break my shower door."

"You're afraid of mice?"

"I...No."

"You're afraid of hygienically conscious mice?"

Mort smiled. "I was not expecting to see the mouse. If you saw a mouse in your shower, you'd jump."

"I'm scared of mice."

"Really?"

"No but it'd make a better excuse."

"Do you want to get back to the real world or not?"

Dylan sighed. "You know the answer to that question."

"You have to go anyway so go take your shower."

Dylan smiled and went but turned back with a grimace. "There are mice in your shower?"

"Go!"

Dylan closed the door and Mort lay back on the bed.

_Why not tell the truth? You heard a noise coming from your bathroom, got a fire poker to check it out and..._

_And what? Saw someone who wasn't there?_

_You were paranoid over Shooter. She gets that. Especially with her own story._

_Shooter. Where did he go to? He hasn't been around in days._

_There's been no sign of him since the fire._

_Maybe he's laying low after the fire. Hiding out. Maybe he's realised he's gone too far now and skipped town._

_Yeah, I should be so lucky._

_You have been. For the past few days. There's a beautiful woman in your shower right now and you're letting her get away._

_Is she getting away? Isn't she coming back?_

_For what? Any time you call her, she comes up to sleep with you then goes home? That's just a forgetful prostitute and that's not Dylan._

_She agreed to this._

_Not being used._

_I'm not using her. And if I am, she's using me right back which I'm fine with. She seems fine with it too._

_I thought you wanted her out of your life? It was too complicated, too dangerous._

_Not if Shooter is gone. Then it's just too complicated and that's my choice._

_Shooter might not be gone. You don't know anything about him. He could pop back up at any time and set here on fire. Or do something to her. Or you. You need to get rid of Shooter before doing anything else. Really get rid of him. _

_Isn't that the police's job?_

_The police aren't here. Well, not the good ones._

Mort sat up and started rifling through his nightstand. Eventually, he found what he was looking for and took out the card. He picked up the phone and dialled.

"Ken Karsch's office. How may I help you?"

"I need to make an appointment."

* * *

"Morning, Mister Rainey."

Mort looked up from his cereal with a frown before closing his eyes in frustration, only remembering then. "Morning, Mrs. Garvey."

"How are you today?"

"I'm fine." Mort replied, looking at the ceiling where above him, Dylan was getting dressed.

"That's good. I picked up your mail from the post office."

"Oh," Mort said, looking from the ceiling to her. "Thank you."

"My pleasure. They wouldn't usually have given it to me but they know I'm your cleaning lady and Juliet didn't want to get caught with a UPS package."

Mort frowned. "A package?"

"Mhmm." Mrs. Garvey nodded, bringing the package over to the table. "Here you go."

Mort opened the package and pulled out what he recognised as his divorce papers. He froze for a second, staring at the papers before looking at the folded note, accompanying them.

_You forgot to take the papers, Mort._

_Time to start signing._

Mort glared at the note in what he assumed was Ted's handwriting.

"Oh..."

Mort looked behind to see Mrs. Garvey looking over at the papers. "Thank you, Mrs. Garvey."

Mrs. Garvey stood up straight and scuttled off into the living room quickly, trying to seem focused on not butting into Mort's business. Mort rolled his eyes and pushed everything away.

"Well, Mr. Rainey, today I was thinking of..."

Mrs. Garvey stopped talking when Dylan walked down the stairs. Mort saw the look of disapproval on her face which he thought was rich when she had praised him and cursed Amy before. What? He was good as long as he didn't move on?

Dylan seemed to have noticed too because she just grabbed her jacket and went to the door. "I'll call you later, Mort."

"I'll walk you to your car."

They left the house and walked outside.

"That was...icy." Dylan said.

Mort nodded. "Mrs. Garvey, always has an opinion as long as it's not wanted."

Dylan turned to him with a smirk when they got to his car. "Do you think she'd mind if I kissed you goodbye? I have no doubt she's watching from the window."

Mort smirked. "Let's not disappoint her then."

Mort got close to her and pressed his lips against hers, one hand going to her neck and the other to her waist.

"Well, that definitely wasn't disappointing." Dylan smiled when they parted.

"Always eager to please my fans."

Dylan laughed. "I'll call you."

"Soon?"

"We'll see." She replied mischievously as she got into the car. Mort closed her door and waited until she had driven off before turning and walked back to the house."

"It's none of my business, Mister Rainey..."

"No, it is not, Mrs. Garvey." Mort said as he jogged up the stairs, two steps at a time to get to his laptop.

* * *

"Any thought of names?"

Cathy smiled at her sisters. "We've been thinking Evie if it's a girl and Shane if it's a boy."

"Oh, I like those." Dylan smiled.

"And you don't want to know the sex beforehand?" Lydia asked. "Let us know what colours to get? Pink or blue?"

"Because you haven't gotten enough?" Cathy asked, indicating to the pile of clothes, necessities and all manners of presents that her sisters had flooded Cathy with for her new baby. "I've had two before; you didn't need to do all this."

"Yes, we did." Jen said. "We get alcohol, you get presents."

Cathy smiled, rubbing her swollen belly. "I'll take presents any day."

Jill smiled. "Well, we've sorted you out now we are going to turn our attention to house hunting." She turned towards Dylan.

Dylan sat up straight. "I'm working on it. I need to sell the old house before I can even consider buying a new one."

"We said we'd lend you the money."

"And I appreciate that." Dylan said. "But I can't guarantee when I can pay you back and I don't need six loan sharks after me." She smiled.

"We don't care when you pay us back." Penny said.

"Or at all." Morgan added. "Just to see you get back on your feet is all we want."

"I am back on my feet." Dylan said. "I'm working and...Everything is fine."

There was silence in the room for a while which made Dylan feel very uncomfortable.

"So Dylan," Lydia asked. "Any new men on the scene?"

"Leave her alone, Lydia." Jill warned.

"What? I'm just taking an interest in my sister. We're allowed do that."

Dylan shook her head. "No, there's no relationship yet."

"Honey, you need to start getting your life back." Penny said. "You can't let it affect you forever."

"It was four months ago." Cathy said. "Leave her take her time."

"And she said yet." Morgan pointed out. "She's looking, she just hasn't found."

"No, I'm not looking." Dylan objected. "I'm just taking things slow."

"Sweetie, you can take things slow when you're dead. Live your life a little." Lydia said.

"Says the one who got pregnant at seventeen."

"And never married."

"I don't need to be married." Lydia said indignantly.

"That's right." Morgan agreed. "What does marriage ever do but ruin your life?"

"You're divorced, doesn't count." Jen said. "And please don't tell me you talk that way in front of Danielle."

"She was the only good thing to come out of that train wreck." Morgan frowned. "I'm not going to hurt her, like you think."

"If that were true, you'd date a man she likes."

"She won't like any man who's not her father. She just needs to adapt."

"She's a teenager. They don't adapt to the world, they expect the world to adapt to them."

"We were talking about Dylan!" Morgan said. "So, no new men?"

"No." Dylan repeated.

"Then why are you trying to hide that smile?" Jill asked.

"I am not in a relationship."

"But you could be soon?"

"No."

"But there's a man you're interested in?"

"I...No."

"I knew it! Who is he?"

"Nobody."

"Dylan, we're your sisters. Just tell us."

Dylan sighed. "It's nothing. It's just a guy I met and have spent some time with."

"What kind of time?" Lydia smirked.

"It's...We're just...It's nothing."

Lydia laughed. "Oh, I know that coyness. Have you jumped him yet?"

"That's...No."

None of her sisters were actually expecting Dylan to try to lie, something she was useless at. They weren't expecting her to have to. They turned to her with a mix of wide eyes, worried expressions and frowns.

"Dylan?" Jen frowned.

"It's fine." Dylan shrugged. "Really."

"What is 'it'?" Penny asked. "You said you're not in a relationship."

"I'm not." Dylan confirmed. "It's just a..."

"A what?"

"It's nothing, seriously, it's nothing. Shouldn't we be paying attention to Cathy tonight?"

"Dylan, I'm more worried about you." Cathy said. "Four months isn't that long and you went through hell with the trial and everything. Are you sure getting into something you can't even give a name is a good idea?"

"You guys, you need to stop worrying." Dylan pleaded. "I know what I'm doing."

"But with who?" Morgan asked. "Who is this guy?"

"Just someone I met through work."

"And he's not looking for a relationship but you're still...you don't knowing him?"

Dylan knew this was going to make things worse but seriously, she was a terrible liar. "He's going through a divorce so no, he doesn't want a relationship."

"A divorce?" Jill asked. "You're...Okay, I need to call this something, are you sleeping with the guy?"

"Sort of."

"Sort of? What does that mean? That you're messing around but not going the whole way?"

"You're making me feel like a teenager."

"Mother of a teenager here, shut up." Morgan said.

"Dylan?" Jill prodded.

"It's a...friends with benefits kind of deal." Dylan explained. "And I know you all think this is a big mistake and I probably can't handle this yet but I'm fine and I'm relaxed and having fun. I haven't done that in a really long time."

"But you said this guy is getting a divorce?"

"His wife cheated on him."

"So he's got his own baggage. Do you really think it's smart to be getting involved in any sense with someone with his own problems?"

"Yes because then he won't stay focused on mine. Look, I'm not ready for a relationship yet and neither is he but I have been feeling lonely lately and I've met someone feeling the same and we're just...being there for each other. That's all it is."

"Like really fun group therapy." Lydia surmised.

* * *

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?"

Dylan looked behind her to see Penny coming up to dry the glasses she was washing.

Dylan sighed. "Yes, I do. Trust me, if it gets too complicated or too rough to handle, I will get out. But right now...It's nice. It's comfortable. I'm enjoying myself with Mort..."

"Mort? That's his name?"

Dylan nodded. "Yeah. I'm enjoying myself with him and that's all I want. Isn't that all you want for me?"

Penny nodded. "Not exactly the kind of arrangement I want to think of my little sister in but if you're happy then I suppose I'm happy for you."

Dylan smiled, going back to the glasses in the sink. "Thank you."

Penny hesitated. "But..."

"But what?"

"Are you going to tell them that _he_ keeps sending you letters?"

Dylan's face dropped. "No. And I didn't tell you so you could blab it either. I told you because I trust you."

"You told me because you were scared shitless."

Dylan looked at her and shrugged. "I'm fine. I am going to sell the house and buy a new one and he won't know my address so he won't be able to send me anymore letters. Let it go."

"If you're so adamant to get a new house so you can forget about him, let me give you the money."

"Thank you Penny but no."

"Dylan, it's not like I'm struggling with the funds. I have a good job and I don't have a husband or kids I need to spend my earnings on. I'm living a good life and I'd feel better about it if I could help you out with yours."

Dylan kissed her cheek. "I'm fine."

She walked out of the kitchen and Penny looked after her.

"I really hope you know what you're doing..."

* * *

**And that's Dylan's very large group of sisters!**

**Thanks for reading! Please Review!  
**


	8. Worth The Risk?

**To lori: Thank you! Maybe it'll be Dylan who scares Shooter off! Hopefully!**

**To Paige: It wasn't confusing to write since I know their characters but they'll rarely be all together so it'll get easier! Thanks!**

**Here's Chapter 8!  
**

"Is there something you're not telling me?"

Mort frowned at Ken's question. That wasn't the greeting he was expecting when he picked up the phone. "What are you talking about?"

"The fire?"

"I told you about that."

"I know you did." Ken said. "So I did some looking into it, spoke to some old friends on the force and I find out they have a suspect."

"Shooter?"

"You."

Mort froze. "Me?"

"So, I'll ask you again, is there something you're not telling me?"

"No! I didn't do it." Mort defended, not believing anyone could think he'd be involved. "That was my home too."

"Was. That's what the police are focusing on."

"I didn't do it, Ken. Would I get you involved to look around if I did?"

"Well, do you have an alibi?"

Mort tried to think. "I was up here all night."

"By yourself?"

Mort thought back to the night. "Not all night. I have someone who can back me up."

_You weren't with Dylan for five minutes._

_I was still with her._

_That isn't a good enough alibi. There are still hours left unaccounted for._

"Who is it?"

"A photographer, she was working up here around that time."

"In the middle of the night?"

Mort huffed. "Okay, she wasn't exactly working all the time up here."

"Oh? Trying to fill the void Amy left with a cute little photographer?"

"I'm being accused of a crime I didn't commit here. Can we focus on that? Why are they even suspecting me?"

"Soon to be ex husband trying to get back at the wife who cheated on him. It's a classic case of bitter resentment."

"This is a classic case? Look, I loved that house."

"Exactly."

"I wouldn't burn it down."

"Anger makes you do crazy things."

"I didn't do it!" Mort shouted, getting angry right now.

"Well, if you have this alibi then you got nothing to worry about."

Mort really hoped he had an alibi.

* * *

"What is it you wanted to talk to me about?"

Mort stepped aside to let Dylan in, noticing the bags of groceries in her hand which she was now passing off to him. "You bought food?"

"As much as I enjoyed the gourmet potato chip sandwiches and soda last time, if I'm staying up here again, I'm making real food. It does exist, you know."

"Not if you can't cook." Mort said, putting the bag on the table. He turned and placed his hands on her waist as she wrapped hers around his neck. "Hi."

Dylan chuckled. "Hi."

Mort kissed her and soon felt how she began to pull him towards the couch.

"Wait," He said, pulling back. "There is actually something I needed to talk to you about."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, it's about the fire."

Dylan raised her eyebrows. "The fire at your old house?"

"That's the one."

"Did they catch Shooter?"

"No, that's not it."

"Well, what is it?"

Mort sighed. "They think I did it."

Dylan frowned. "You?"

"Yeah."

"But...that's ridiculous."

"I'm glad someone thinks so." He said, going over to the couch. "Apparently because I'm the ex, I have a vendetta against Amy and the house."

"So what did you tell the police?"

"I haven't told them anything yet." Mort said. "They haven't come to question me yet."

Dylan sat down on the couch too. "Then how do you..."

"I hired a private investigator to find out about Shooter. He called me and told me."

"So, do you know what you're going to tell the police?"

"Well, I need an alibi."

"Do you have one?"

"Sort of."

"Sort of?"

Mort looked at her. "You saw me that night."

Dylan thought back and remembered. That was the night he burst into her motel room. "I only saw you for about a minute though."

"You know I would never do this."

Dylan was beginning to realise. "Mort, I can't lie to the police. I can't tell them I was with you all night."

"Dylan, you're the only person who saw me that night. You're the only one who can stop me from being a suspect."

"But Mort, if you didn't do it, then the police will realise that."

"How? There were no witnesses, I have no alibi and apparently, I have a motive." Mort sighed. "I know what I'm asking and I know it's more than I should ask from you but Dylan, you're my only hope here."

"But Mort, this..."

_This is a lot of commitment for someone I'm not even in a relationship with._

"Dylan, I wouldn't ask you to do this if I wasn't desperate. I could never have done it. You have to know that."

"I do. But Mort, I can't perjure myself. Do you know people who get caught doing that go to jail? It's a serious offense."

"But I didn't do it."

"So you want me to risk going to jail for lying about something that never happened rather than you risk going to jail for something that actually did never happen?"

Mort put his head in his hands, realising what he was actually asking her to do. "You're right. I'm sorry. I just...I didn't do this and I know with my luck, I'm definitely going to jail."

Dylan got up off the couch, feeling terrible. "Mort, I just got out of all this business with cops and statements and questioning and...and everything."

Mort walked over to her. "It's okay. I know. It was ridiculous to even suggest. I'll just have to trust that they'll find Shooter, even if he has disappeared off the face of the earth." Mort sighed. "Maybe this is some grand plan of his to screw me over. The plagiarism thing didn't work out for him and he got bitter or..."

_Why would Ted have Shooter burn down Amy's house to frame me?_

_I think its clear Shooter is uncontrollable. He's gone past doing what Ted expected anymore?_

Dylan looked at him, not knowing why she was about to say what she was going to. "I...Mort, I need to think about this. I have to go."

She went to the door but Mort went after her. "Wait, Dylan, don't leave. I'm sorry; I never should have asked you to do this. Forget it."

Dylan turned back to him. "Just...give me time to think about it."

She left the cabin and Mort sighed, returning to the couch.

* * *

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

Dylan quickly hesitated, knowing that if Penny could see her face, she'd suss something was wrong straight away. She didn't know how long her voice wouldn't betray her.

"Dylan?"

"Oh sorry," She said. "I was just wondering..."

"What?"

How could she phrase it without making it obvious what she was considering? "I was watching this movie the other night, you know one of those courtroom drama types and what would possess someone to lie to the police for someone else?"

Penny frowned. "That's it? You want to discuss a movie?"

"You never used to be suspicious when we chatted about meaningless stuff over the phone before. I know I've been a bit of a downer lately but I'd like to get back to normal."

"Okay, I'm sorry." Penny said. "I just...You sounded quite worried about it."

"You always think I sound worried now. You expect me to be worried. I'm fine." Dylan replied, getting kind of annoyed that her voice did betray her and also because all sense of normalcy in her life didn't seem to be back yet. Her family were scared to flinch around her. At least Mort treated her like a normal person with no scar.

_If he ever wants to see you again._

Dylan restrained sighed. "So, what do you think would make someone so stupid as to do something like that?"

"Man or woman doing it?"

"Woman."

"She loved him."

Dylan frowned. "No, she didn't."

"Really? That would be the only thing I'd suspect that a woman would risk herself for. She wasn't going out with this guy?"

"Not really. I mean it was a movie so obviously there was attraction there but you know, they didn't get together till the end."

"So he didn't go to jail?"

"He was innocent but didn't have an alibi."

"Well, it was a movie. She did it so it'd be entertaining and so they could be together at the end. In real life, he'd either be bribing her millions or she'd be head over heels for the guy."

"What if she just did it because she knew he was innocent?"

"Come on Dylan, you should have learned after what happened. No one can trust the thought that someone might be innocent unless they're family. You never would have suspected Ryan to be a total psycho when you were engaged to him. Is that better?"

"At least you're trying." Dylan said, pleased with the face that she wasn't walking on eggshells over the issue but that truth did bring her hope to help Mort crashing down around her. "If that were the case, no one would ever be with anyone else. You can't not trust anyone ever."

"Trust them; just don't risk yourself for them."

"So, I'm supposed to carry pepper spray in my bag whenever I go out on a date for the rest of my life?"

"Yes. Aww sweetie, are you ready to start dating again?"

"No. I told you, I'm happy with my situation."

"You deserve to be happier."

Dylan sighed. "I have to go. I'll call you tomorrow."

"Make sure you do."

Dylan hung up her phone and started biting the pad of her thumb.

_He was pretty crazy that night._

_No, this is Mort. He'd never do anything like that. He's not that kind of person._

_Then why not help him out?_

_Because getting involved could get me into a lot of trouble._

_But if he didn't do it, then there's nothing to worry about._

_So much for just a bit of fun..._

_Penny is right, if I was in love with him, it'd be different but this isn't even dating! How can I trust that he didn't really do it?_

_You just have to go with what you believe yourself._

Dylan picked up her phone and dialled.

* * *

Mort jumped awake from one of his nightmares, his breath ragged. They'd gone when Dylan came and now Dylan was gone and they came back. He looked out his window to see it was now night.

_Sleeping the day away. Very constructive._

He got up and turned on the lights before going into the kitchen, looking through the bags Dylan had brought.

_Nice parting gift._

_She might be back._

_Right, so might Amy. Women just love a pathetic loner author who can't write and gets blamed for crimes he has no proof of not committing._

_I was writing just fine when Dylan was around._

Mort started putting the food away. Dylan must have known him better than he thought because she didn't get anything that needed to be refrigerated so the food hadn't spoiled in the time he'd left it there.

_Gets my laziness. What a catch._

Mort froze when he saw a shadow out his window from the corner of his eye.

_Shit._

_Could just be Ken._

_Ken is like a boulder. You'd know Ken if you saw him._

_Shooter's a big man. You'd know him if you saw him._

_He wears black and skulks. For a giant, he's a good skulker. Night is like his ideal threatening time._

Mort walked over to his door quickly and locked it before doing the same with the back door.

_Maybe I should just let Shooter kill me. It'd make my life so much easier if I weren't around for it._

Mort sat on the couch with the phone in front of him.

_It might have been nothing. An animal or a trick of the mind._

_I can't afford that kind of thinking when there's a psycho after me._

Mort got up and went to check the window. He quickly regretted his decision when sure enough, out the window he saw Shooter standing a few metres away from the cabin. He tipped his hat with a creepy smile when Mort appeared at the window and Mort backed away quickly, going to get his trusty fire poker. His attention was taken when he saw car lights coming up the road out the window. He looked out.

_Please be the big detective, please be the big detective._

Mort's eyes widened when he saw not Ken's car but Dylan's.

_Shit._

He looked out but saw Shooter was no longer standing there.

_What if he's hiding until she gets out and then pounces on her or something?_

Dylan stopped the car and got out. She turned when she heard the front door to the cabin be ripped open and Mort hurried out.

"I came to..."

She was cut off when Mort grabbed her hand and pulled her inside, nearly taking her off her feet. When they got inside, Mort locked the door again and went to look out the window. Dylan saw the fire poker in his hand.

"What's going on?"

"Shooter was just outside."

Dylan's eyes widened. "He was? I didn't see anything."

"He was there. He saw me."

"And you came outside? Mort, he's trying to hurt you. Badly."

"What did you want me to do? Leave you locked out there with him?"

Mort's phone rang making both Mort and Dylan jump with fright. He walked over slowly, expecting it to be Shooter and picked it up. Dylan reached for her own phone in case she needed to end up calling the police.

"Hello?"

"You can relax."

Mort could relax. It was Ken. "I thought I was paying you to take care of things?"

"You are. I was up there a while ago and everything was fine. You were asleep."

Mort frowned. "Were you in my house?"

"I saw you through the window and there weren't any axe murderers creeping up behind you."

"No, they wait until you're gone. Shooter was outside a few minutes ago."

"He was? What he do?"

"Nothing. He just stood there. Then a car came along and he ran off, I'm guessing."

"Look, these types are all manly and threatening when it's just you. Keep people around you and he might back off. Witnesses. If he's gonna bolt at the first sign of another person being around, keep other people around."

"Well I have one now."

"Your little photographer? You should be bending down and kissing her feet."

"Why?"

"You are no longer a suspect."

"Really?" Mort asked, looking into the kitchen where Dylan, having realised the call wasn't threatening, was putting away the rest of the food.

"Really. Apparently there was an anonymous person came forward to give you an alibi. I'm assuming it's her."

"Wait, she can be anonymous?"

"She can when she has connections in the police department. It's not an official alibi but now that they know you weren't alone, they're not going to go too into concerning themselves with charging you any time soon."

"That's great." Mort said, still looking at Dylan. "I gotta go."

"I thought you would. Want me to come up and scope around for Shooter? I promise not to look in any windows."

Mort thought about it. "I'd say he's gone."

"So do I."

Mort hung up the phone and walked into the kitchen. "You have connections on the police force?"

Dylan didn't look up from the food. "Brother in law. I didn't even think about it until a while ago. He's not at the same precinct but he knows a few guys there. I told him that you weren't worth looking into since I was with you. If you don't get charged, I don't have to give an official statement so there you go."

"It's still a risk."

"Well I don't believe you did it so maybe it's a risk worth taking."

Mort walked up next to her. "Thank you. You don't know how much this means to me."

Dylan looked at him. "If I didn't, I wouldn't have done it."

Mort pressed his lips against hers and Dylan dropped the food she was holding so she could grasp onto him in return.

"_In real life, he'd either be bribing her millions or she'd be head over heels for the guy."_

_Well I haven't seen him take out his cheque book yet._

_This can't be happening. I'm not ready for this to happen. This is just sex, it's not anything else._

_I don't know how long more I can pretend I believe that.

* * *

_

**Sorry it took so long to update! Tons of essays to be done. But they are done so here you go!**

**Thanks for reading! Please Review!  
**


	9. The Next Step

**To lori: Thank you! Less Shooter, more Dylan! =P**

**To Paige: Oh wow, thank you! And there's some good ones floating around!**

**Here's Chapter 9!  
**

_Dylan looked up at the clock. "Oh my God, I didn't know it was so late. I should really be going."_

_Mort looked at her. "Really?"_

_"Yeah."_

_"You're in no position to drive."_

_"I'll call a cab."_

_"The phone is over there." Mort said and he pointed towards the phone on the coffee table._

_"Thanks." Dylan got up and walked over to the phone. The only light illuminating this part of the cabin came from the kitchen. She went over and picked up the phone._

"_Tashmore Taxi Service, how can I help you?"_

"_Hey, I'd like to get a taxi at..."_

_Dylan stopped talking when she felt Mort's hand on her arm. She turned to face him and he placed a hand on her cheek. Dylan let the hand which held the phone fall to her side. After a few seconds, Mort leaned in and kissed her. Dylan closed her eyes as she kissed him back._

"_Hello? Hey lady, are you still there?"_

_The two heard the voice on the other line after a while and broke the kiss. Dylan put the phone back up to her ear, her eyes staying on Mort's as he stared back at her._

"_Sorry about that."_

"_Listen, do you want a cab or not?"_

_Dylan looked at Mort, who also heard the question. He shook his head slightly._

_Dylan spoke back into the phone. "No thanks. I'm good."_

_Mort took the phone from her and hung it up. He looked at her and after a second, went back in to kiss her. Dylan reciprocated and wrapped her arms around his neck. Mort led her over to the couch. She broke the kiss and brought Mort to sit on the couch before straddling him and kissing him again, his arms going around her waist. His hands went to her top and pulled it up, the kiss braking so he could pull it over her head. He took it off of her and threw it away, his hands going back to waist and up her back. Dylan took off Mort's sweater and let it drop to the floor. Her hands went from his shoulders down his chest as his roamed her back. Their lips met again._

_Mort's hands went to her waist and caught her so as to lie her down on the couch. He let his upper body rest on hers and as he kissed her again, his hands went to her jeans and undid them. He pulled the jeans off of her and discarded them like the rest of the clothes. Mort's hands roamed her thighs and up to her waist. After a while, Dylan broke the kiss._

_She was breathing heavily. "Mort, are you really...?"_

_Mort shushed her. "Don't. Upstairs."_

_Dylan looked at him and after a second, nodded. The two got up and made their way over to stairs, their hands and lips scarcely leaving each other. They got to his bedroom and Dylan lay down on the bed, her upper body slightly sitting up by leaning on her elbows while Mort turned on the bedside lamp. Mort looked down at her and walked over to the bed. Dylan moved up slightly to leave more room and Mort climbed on top of her, their lips meeting again. Like all the other kisses, this one was filled the passion that neither knew they had for each other. Sure, they had thought about each other in that way but that was because Dylan was the first woman Mort was really around since his separation and it was the same for Dylan in terms of men. It would be unusual not to have those thoughts after months of loneliness. But was that all it was? Two people trying not to feel lonely anymore? Or did they actually want each other? By the amount of passion in the kiss, it felt like they couldn't possibly want anyone but each other._

_The kiss broke and Dylan sat up, her hands going to Mort's chest to lightly push him up too. Her hands went up to his shoulders and Mort's went to the back of her bra. His hands stayed on the clasp and he looked into her eyes seeing if she held any objections. She just looked back at him and nodded. Mort undid the clasp and his hands went to the straps, lightly letting them graze down her arms as the piece of lingerie came off. Mort's lips went back to Dylan's as his hands roamed her body. When they parted, Mort rested his forehead on hers as they panted._

_She reached up and caught his lips and went back to lie on the bed, him going with her. Dylan's hands went to his jeans and finally rid him of the material. Once were off, she wrapped her arms around his neck and brought her lips closer to his. She looked into his eyes and Mort went the rest of the way to bring their lips together. They clung tightly to each other as the kiss progressed. Mort's lips went to her cheek and down to her neck as she leant her head back to give him better access._

"_Mort..."_

_Mort quite liked the way she was saying his name. Maybe he could get her to do it more. He continued his ministrations on her neck and his hands that were around her waist, started gently stroking her skin as he brought her to lie back on the bed._

"_Oh Mor..."_

_Dylan stopped when she looked at him again and her words turned to a gasp as her eyes widened. In front of her wasn't Mort but Shooter. He grabbed a pillow and placed it over her face, smothering her. Dylan struggled but he wouldn't let up his grip._

Mort jumped awake, completely terrified. What the hell was that? He looked to the side of the bed quickly to see Dylan sleeping peacefully.

_What just happened? That was not how that night ended! That night ended a lot better than that!_

_ Why am I dreaming that?_

_Shooter doesn't want her around._

Mort frowned. Shooter didn't want her around? What the hell did that mean?

_He saw her last night?_

_No, this is just my fear getting the best of me. It was just a nightmare._

Mort ran a hand over his face in frustration.

He jumped when the phone rang, also causing Dylan to wake up.

"Oh, loud..."

"You can go back to sleep." Mort said, going for the phone. "It's still early. Hello?" He said into the phone.

"Just calling to see did Shooter turn up again last night?"

_Unfortunately. Just in my head._

"No, the night was fine."

"Bet it was." Ken said. "Is your cute little photographer there?"

"Goodbye Ken."

"Wait, I think I should probably talk to her."

Mort frowned. "Why?"

"You never know who is involved. She might be. Did you ever think of that?"

Mort cringed. "I have actually and it's...not an issue." He said, trying to not make it obvious what was being said while she was right next to him.

"Still, she might have seen something and not even realised, maybe even caught something on her camera."

"You just want a look, don't you?"

"While one of the reasons, it ain't the main one. So?"

"She's not involved. There's no need to make her be."

"By trying to protect her, you could be putting her in danger, you know."

Mort huffed. Just being in his life was a danger. That wasn't making him send her away anymore. He couldn't. "I'll think about it."

Mort hung up the phone.

"Is that 'she' me by any chance?" He heard from Dylan who still had her eyes closed.

"Private investigator." Mort explained. "He wants to see you but I don't know if that's a good idea."

Dylan opened her eyes with a frown. "Me? Why?"

"Just in case you saw anything and didn't realise." Mort said. "I told him no though."

"Why did you tell him no?"

"I just didn't see the point in putting you through my problems even more than I already have. You've done enough."

Dylan nodded. "Does he think I'm a suspect along with Shooter?"

"I know you're not." Mort replied. "You have nothing to worry about there."

Dylan smiled. "I thought I was supposed to be the knight in shining armour?"

Mort smirked. "Well, right now you're the naked girl in my bed so why don't we just stick to what we're used to?" He said before leaning over and kissing her.

Dylan wrapped her arms around him and Mort was planning on making his morning better when he realised why it wasn't a great one in the first place.

_That dream._

Mort pulled away quickly.

"Mort?" Dylan asked. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Mort said, getting up. "I eh...I just better get up."

"I thought it was still early?"

"Yeah but I want to...have a shower."

Mort put on his robe and walked into the bathroom quickly, going over to lean on the sink.

_That damn dream._

_It was just a dream. You don't want to hurt her._

_Why would I dream of Shooter doing something like that to her?_

_Because you're scared of Shooter._

_Why did I become him? Why did that happen? I felt every bit of anger he had._

_It was your dream! Of course you felt it!_

_I can't hurt her. I can't do it. She's too good to me and I..._

Mort sighed.

_This is why I can't have a relationship with her.

* * *

_

"Hello?"

"Dylan, its Rhea Thomas from Supreme Magazine calling."

"Oh, hi." Dylan said, going to her purse and getting out her date planner just in case a job was on offer. She was currently in Mort's kitchen, wearing one of Mort's shirts.

"Listen to this," Rhea mused. "Behind the Lens."

"Eh...What?"

"It's you, sweetie." She explained. "Our theme for next month's magazine; an inside look at how the magazine is put together. Writers, editors, wardrobe people and photographers. I want you to be in the magazine."

Dylan frowned. "What? Really?"

"Yes, really. You were the first person I thought of when photographers were mentioned. Mainly because you're young and not too bad to look at but it's also because of how much I respect you."

"Mhmm." Dylan said, not all that convinced by the last part.

"We're talking the cover here, Dylan."

"Wait, cover? Of the magazine?"

"Of course! It's going to be you because like I said you're not too old and wrinkly, you've got a good face but also your name is getting quite big and influential in the industry so people, insiders and readers know who you are. This is a great opportunity."

"It's just...Surely there's someone more worthwhile. Like people who are paid to be photographed."

"This is going to be all about the people who work at the magazine, not models and celebrities. It's very 'Devil Wears Prada'."

"Those were actresses."

"Ugly Betty, then. Normal people. People love that."

"Didn't that show get cancelled?"

"Anyway," Rhea said, quickly moving on. "What do you say? It's quite the opportunity. Your hair will be done, make up, designer clothes which you might be able to keep..."

"But not really."

"But not really." Rhea agreed. "Just thought that might make you say yes."

"But if I'm getting my hair and make up done and wearing different clothes, how is it an inside look to the real workings of the normal people in a magazine?"

"Supreme is a fashion magazine sweetie, not National Geographic. People don't want to see you all in your natural habitat; they just want to think they're seeing you in your natural habitat which is pretty fabulous. So?"

"Can I think about it?"

"Only for today. We want to get on this as soon as possible. Estrella has been outselling us for three months and that's a problem. Call me back when you've decided which will be later today?"

"It will be later today. Goodbye." Dylan hung up her phone. "That was very strange."

"What was?"

Dylan looked to see Mort having just come down the stairs and now coming into the kitchen.

"Oh, nothing. Just a call from work. Feeling better after your shower?"

Mort nodded. "Sorry about a while ago. It was just..."

_What excuse could you possibly use besides you freaked out?_

"It's fine." Dylan assured.

Mort walked closer. "What are you doing?"

"Breakfast." Dylan replied, going back to the counter.

"You didn't need to..."

"Don't flatter yourself, Mister Rainey." Dylan smirked. "I just like to cook."

Mort chuckled. "Don't let me stop you then. I don't think I've had anything but cereal for breakfast in over ten years."

Dylan frowned. "Your wife never...?"

"No, she worked early in the mornings so she never really had the time...or the want. She wasn't really the domestic type." Mort said with a frown.

Dylan nodded before realising she probably had no right to ask that. She turned to Mort. "About last night..."

"Good night."

Dylan smiled. "It was. But I actually meant the whole alibi thing."

Mort frowned. "Oh?"

"Yeah, it's just I don't want you to think that I...I don't want you to think you have to..." Dylan didn't seem to be able to find the right words. "I didn't do it so I would have something to hold against you or because I'm hoping a relationship will come out of it and I'm trying to force your arm that way. I did it because I felt it was the right thing to do."

Mort nodded. "You don't want a relationship?"

Dylan looked at him. "I...Do you?"

Mort stood up straighter. "No, no, no."

"Oh good." Dylan said about as convincing as Mort had been. "Let's just keep going the way we've been going."

"Sounds good." Mort agreed.

"I mean you're still married." Dylan pointed out.

"I doubt that's really a factor." Mort said uncomfortably, ruffling his hair to make it even messier. "We're not technically...its over."

_You just haven't signed those papers lying on your table._

Dylan stopped those thoughts quickly. It had nothing to do with her, she wasn't Mort's girlfriend.

"So that call I got," Dylan hoped changing the subject to get out of the territory they were currently in. "Very weird, indeed. It was the editor of a fashion magazine wanting to hire me."

"How is that strange?" Mort asked, thankful for the distraction.

"As a model. Well, sort of."

"A model?"

Dylan nodded. "They're doing a behind the scenes issue and they want me to be their photographer in the magazine."

"Are you going to do it?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. I'm not very...I like being behind the camera."

"That's understandable." Mort nodded causing Dylan to frown at him and make him realise how that sounded. "No, I don't mean that you shouldn't be in front of a camera or anything, that is definitely not what I meant. I just mean I hate taking pictures for my book covers so I get the whole..." Mort saw her smiling at him. "That's a cruel trick."

Dylan chuckled. "Hardly a trick. For a writer, you are not the most eloquent Mister Rainey."

She felt his arms wrap around her from behind and his lips on her neck, refusing to let a dream bother him. "Well then, I just won't use my words for a while."

Dylan smiled and indicated to the food. "Can't let anything burn."

"Only my ego, it seems." He said, pulling away slightly.

Dylan kissed him lightly. "You'll get over it."

"Will I?"

"You will if I make it up to you later."

"You don't have work?" Mort asked.

"I didn't know you were in such a rush to get rid of me."

"If you're promising things, you can stay as long as you like." Mort smiled. "I'm just surprised."

"Well, I just need to get back to Rhea Thomas about this behind the scenes thing today but other than that, I'm all yours. That is, when I'm not agonising over if I would make it on America's Next Top Model."

"Well, would you like to do it?"

Dylan sighed. "I don't know. I've been trying to pick myself up after the last couple of months and I hope I'm succeeding but I don't know if I'm confident enough to have my face splashed across a magazine. It was hard enough when photographers were trying to get pictures of me for newspapers and everything during the trial. I don't know if my confidence is quite there yet."

Mort nodded. "I think you should do it."

Dylan frowned. "You do?"

"Yeah, I do." Mort said. "Dylan, you are a beautiful woman and you shouldn't let him take that away from you."

Mort couldn't help but think of the person he used to be before Amy took it away from him. He hated her for it. He didn't know why but all he knew was that he didn't want Dylan living with that same feeling.

Dylan kissed him passionately, cutting off Mort's thoughts.

He parted the kiss for a second. "What about the..."

She replied quickly before kissing him again. "Let it burn."

* * *

"Okay, hold it there. That's perfect Dylan."

Dylan was in the middle of her photo shoot and was actually quite surprised by how much fun she was having. Every one was helping in making it such a good time just like she tried to do when she was behind the camera.

"Okay, great. You're done." Wes, the photographer said. It was actually quite nice that he was her photographer because he had agreed to do this shoot too and Dylan had been his photographer on the day he had done his pictures. So at least she knew the person in charge and knew that he was a nice guy who wouldn't shout at her. He also had a good reputation as a photographer so she knew she was in good hands.

Dylan walked over to the computer to check her stills and was so surprised. She didn't believe it was her. True, she wasn't a vain person by any means but she could not stop looking in a mirror any time she passed one. Perfect hair, perfect make up, designer clothes, she felt like a million dollars.

"You're a natural."

Dylan turned her head from where she was sitting and found Wes coming over to her. He sat beside her and looked into the computer before clicking on various photos. "You're really giving me a lot of choice."

"Oh I have absolutely no idea what to do. I'm just trying to mimic what I tell the models to do." She laughed.

Wes smiled. "Yeah it's way different when you get in front of the camera. I was completely clueless."

"You didn't seem it. You were very relaxed."

"Well I wouldn't have given any good pictures if I was as rigid as a board. I just kind of had to forget about how many people were there and stuff."

"I know what you mean. It can be quite terrifying when you think about it."

Wes looked away from the computer to her. "Well you're doing a great job. I think I know which picture is going on the cover already."

"Really? You work fast."

"Well you make the work easy. Actually, I was wondering if maybe you wanted to go out sometime...with me."

Dylan kept the smile on her face. Here was this cute, smart and easygoing guy asking her to go out with him on an actual date. He wanted to go out in public with her and talk to her and get to know her and his little uncertainty was very cute but the only thing that came to her head was 'what about Mort?'

_What about him? He doesn't want to date you. Wes does._

_But what I and Mort have..._

_Is nothing. You two don't have anything. You hook up sometimes. That's not a relationship. Mort doesn't want a relationship._

_I didn't want one._

_Is that still true?_

_No._

_Well there you go; Wes is asking you out in hopes of a relationship._

_But Mort..._

_Doesn't want one. He said it himself. Even if you do want one with him. Do what you promised yourself you'd do. Move on._

Dylan thought about Mort some more. "I'm sorry but I'm not really ready to date right now." Dylan said even though one part of her mind told her it was a lie.

Wes nodded. "Well it was worth a shot. Do you think you'll be ready any time soon?"

Dylan considered it. "I think so. Soon enough to exchange numbers."

_No harm in getting the guy's number. He's actually interested in me._

"Great." Wes smiled and Dylan smiled back at him.

Dylan gave him her number and he gave her his. Even though she was smiling, Dylan was only thinking of how to accomplish one thing.

* * *

Mort went over to answer the knocking at his door. He opened it and was surprised to see Dylan. He was surprised because she seemed to have come straight from her shoot if her hair or make up suggested anything. She looked stunning.

"Dylan, I didn't think you'd be coming over tonight. Not that I mind." He smiled and took her into his arms. "Surprises are quite nice."

He kissed her and Dylan responded for a few seconds before remembering why she was really here. She pulled back and left Mort's arms. He looked at her confused.

"What's wrong?"

"Mort, I can't do this anymore."

Mort looked at her and realised how conflicted she looked. He frowned. "What? Why?"

"This has been great. Believe me, it was amazing. But I feel like I'm at the point where I want a relationship again and not just sex. I feel like I'm ready to try and start having a real connection with someone."

"So you want a relationship?"

Dylan nodded. "I do."

"With me?"

"I don't think you want one. If you do then...I'm here. If you want me. Do you?"

Mort tried to muddle through his stubbornness and think about what he really wanted.

_Yes you do. Say you do._

_I don't want a relationship._

_If you don't say yes then Dylan really is gone forever. You don't want that. You want her._

_I don't want a relationship._

_You don't want to be hurt again. Dylan is nothing like Amy._

"I don't want a relationship." Mort said out loud to more himself than Dylan before he could stop himself.

Dylan nodded. "Then I guess there's really nothing left to say. Goodbye Mort."

Dylan walked to the door.

"Dylan." Mort said and she stopped and looked at him, what she hoped wasn't too hopefully.

"Yes?"

After a few seconds of silence, Mort answered. "Nothing."

Dylan's hopeful expression dropped. "Goodbye Mort."

With that she walked out of the cabin and Mort was all alone again.

_You're an idiot._

_I know.

* * *

_

**Stupid Mort letting her get away! Do you think he's wishing he didn't give her a confidence boost? =P  
**

**Thanks for reading! Please Review!  
**


	10. Simplifying Matters

**To lori: Thank you! **

**Here's Chapter 10!  
**

_This never used to be so hard._

Dylan inspected what felt like her hundredth outfit in the mirror. Was it too casual? Too formal? Would it be better to wear pants or a dress? Or a skirt? When she was blonde, her favourite colour to wear was deep red but now that she was brunette? What size heels should she wear? She wasn't a particularly tall woman but what if she wore heels that made her taller than her date? That could embarrass him and she didn't want that.

_Okay, I'm seriously over thinking this. I never used to be like this. I never worried about colours or heel size. Why isn't this easy anymore? Why am I thinking about this too much?_

_Well, it's better than thinking about the other stuff. I've been away from the real world for four months; I don't even have anything to talk about. _

_Yes, you do. You never had that problem with Mort._

_It was different with him. I was never trying to impress Mort. Conversation flowed because I was comfortable. I wasn't invested in anything._

_Until I was. And then ruined everything._

_I didn't ruin everything. I told the truth and he wasn't interested, there's nothing I can do about that._

_I can stop thinking about Mort when I'm getting ready for my date with Wes._

Dylan sighed, before sitting on the bed that was covered in all different clothes. "I'm such a failure at this."

_Maybe I'm not really ready._

_No, I am. I'm just nervous. It's okay to be nervous._

Dylan got up and went to do her make up, willing herself to continue on this path back to normalcy. She wouldn't balk at the thought of trusting someone new and trying to develop a relationship. People did it all the time and she'd been successful before.

_With a psychotic maniacal murderer._

_He's not a murderer._

_He would have been if he'd gotten his way._

Dylan put her hands against the sink and looked down from the mirror into it.

_I have to stop thinking about him. I have to stop thinking about what happened. It cannot rule every aspect of my life anymore. It can't come into every thought._

She looked back up at herself. "I'm moving on."

A few minutes later, Dylan was putting the finishing touches to her make up when she heard a knock at the door.

_Who could that be? Wes is supposed to be meeting me at the restaurant._

She walked over and opened the door, surprised to see Mort standing there.

"Mort."

"Go out with me."

Dylan was taken aback. "What?"

"I want a relationship. I want a relationship with you. Something that's more than just sex."

Dylan sighed. "Mort..."

Mort walked passed her into the hotel room and she closed the door behind him before turning to face him.

"Dylan, I'm serious. I know I told you I don't want a relationship but I was wrong. I want to try and work at being with someone again. With you."

Dylan really was melting at hearing these things but wasn't he too late?

"Are you going somewhere?" He asked when he saw her dressed up.

"I have a date."

Mort looked at her. "Oh. You have a date."

"I'm sorry but I did tell you that I wanted to try dating."

"I know you did but you also said you'd be here if I wanted to try a relationship." Mort put his hands on her waist and leant his forehead on hers. "I want to be the one dating you."

Mort pressed his lips against hers and Dylan wrapped her arms around his neck. She really did love kissing him. But soon she came to her senses and pulled away.

"Mort, I'm sorry but how do I know you're not just saying this because I'm gone now?"

"Dylan, I wouldn't say I'm serious about this if I wasn't."

"Have you signed you divorce papers yet?"

Mort was thrown by this question. "What does that matter?"

"Of course it matters. If you can't sign those papers then you're clearly not over your wife. I mean it stung when we were sleeping together and they were always there but I couldn't say anything. We weren't a couple. But this relationship you want can never be serious until you can sign those papers and move on from your old life. Can you do that?"

Mort was silent for a few seconds but it was enough.

"That silence tells me you're not sure." She sighed. "I have to go." Dylan walked up to him and kissed him lightly. "Goodbye Mort."

Mort looked at her and nodded before leaving the hotel room. Dylan stayed where she was.

_That was horrible. _

Dylan was in no mood to go out on a date anymore. She either wanted to run out after Mort or just crawl into bed.

_No. Move on. I'm moving on._

* * *

"Have you ever photographed Lea Green?" Wes asked.

Dylan nodded.

"Isn't she something else?"

"A complete diva." Dylan agreed.

The date had been going well so far. They were never at a loss about what to talk about seeing as they worked in the same industry and the conversation was flowing well. Well, on Wes' side. Dylan tried her best but just found being sociable a task. She couldn't take her mind off of Mort.

"I finished editing your pictures." Wes said.

"You did?"

He nodded. "Sent them in and everything. They'll hit newsstands in a couple of days at the most. They look great."

"Well that's thanks to you."

"It's not hard when the subject is someone so agreeable."

Dylan smiled. "Thank you."

"Also, I just want you to know, I photoshopped out your..." He indicated to his own chest.

"My scar? Thank you. For doing that I mean." Dylan said.

"Of course. No one needs to see that."

Dylan frowned. _What's that supposed to mean?_

Wes realised. "No, I didn't mean that it's ugly or that people shouldn't have to look at it. I just meant that it wasn't anyone's business to be gawking at it. Your pictures are too pretty to let a scar ruin them. I just decided that you'd probably prefer not to let it mar the pictures."

"You do realise that I do have that scar everyday?" Dylan frowned. "I can't get rid of it so does that mean I'm ruined?"

"No, I didn't mean it like that."

"Okay."

"I mean, if you wanted to keep it in I can change the pictures. We might even be able to include your story with the article if you wanted. Make it more interesting."

"You don't even know my story. How do you know it's interesting?"

"Well I would assume...I mean, isn't it? If you let people know your story, it could be a huge deal."

Dylan couldn't believe it. Had he only asked her out to find out what really happened? So he could use her story?

_Oh my God._

Dylan got her bag and took out her purse, putting money on the table for her meal. "You know what, this was such a mistake. I'm gonna go. Goodbye."

Dylan got up and left the table and walked out of the restaurant, ignoring Wes' objections to her leaving. She got into her car and drove off.

_I am so stupid. Why am I so stupid? I fall for a guy who doesn't even want to go out with me and then try and get over him by going out with a guy who only tried to use me to get a good article so his damn pictures could get more publicity. Why am I always attracted to the wrong guy?_

Dylan got to her hotel but didn't get out of the car. She was debating with herself. It didn't take her long to drive away from her hotel again.

* * *

Mort was lying on the floor with Chico and thinking to himself.

_Well you really blew that didn't you? Couldn't hang onto Amy and now you're after losing Dylan too. Now you're all alone again._

_I like being alone._

_Not anymore. It's lonely._

_I'll get over it._

_After another six months?_

Mort groaned. His own mind was annoying him. He got up and was about to go upstairs to bed when he heard a knock at his door. He figured it was Ken so he walked over and answered it. He was surprised to see Dylan standing on the other side.

"Dylan, what are you..."

Mort was cut off when Dylan kissed him. Mort responded and felt as she walked further into the cabin, closing the door with her foot. She took off her jacket and threw it away. Mort pulled back.

"Dylan, what are you doing? What happened to your date?"

"Didn't work out."

"So you came here? I thought you didn't want a relationship until you thought I could be serious and sign the papers?"

"Mort, forget everything I said. The whole relationship thing. That was just a mistake. Let's just go back to the way things were before."

She tried kissing him again but Mort pulled back. She frowned. "Mort?"

Without a word, Mort went over to the table where the brown envelope was situated and he picked it up, lifting the papers out of it. He took a pen and wrote his name next to where Amy's was written and he smiled when he had done it.

_I did it. I proved that I don't need Amy._

Dylan was right, he had to sign those papers and leave his past behind him. What he had done with Dylan proved that he was capable of moving on. He had only thought about Dylan today. If Amy could move on from him in the middle of their marriage, it shouldn't be wrong for him to move on after it. Those feelings of being jaded were easing now he was focusing on someone else. He wanted to stay focused on Dylan.

He placed the papers back into the envelope and turned back to her.

"I don't want to forget what you said. I want that relationship and I want to have it with you."

Dylan was smiling at him. "You signed the papers."

Mort walked over to her, wrapping his arms around her. "The only person I want to think about is you. So, do ya wanna go out with me?"

Dylan laughed and kissed him. "Absolutely."

* * *

**Yay! They're finally together for reals!**

**Thanks for reading! Please Review!  
**


	11. Nosey People

**To lori: I think Mort and Dylan might have a problem aside from Wes. Read on! =P Thanks!**

**Here's Chapter 11!  
**

"Come on, you can do this."

"I know I can. I just don't want to."

Dylan smiled. "You can get back to your cabin soon enough. It's just the townspeople. They're not going to run after you with pitchforks."

Mort grimaced. "That I could stand. It's the blank stares that unnerve me. It's like Children of the Corn in this town."

"You'll be fine. I'll protect you." Dylan said and Mort smiled at her, squeezing her hand which was in his. She looked up at him with a smile of her own. "Anyway, I think you're probably overreacting."

They made their way into Bowie's store and everyone turned to them. Dylan had to admit, she saw where Mort was coming from at that moment. It was a little unsettling but she kept her hand in Mort's as she dragged him up along the aisles.

"See?" Mort whispered when they were out of sight.

"They're probably not used to having a famous author in their town. You're a celebrity."

Mort cringed at her. "Dylan..."

Dylan chuckled. "Hold onto that title. I don't hold hands with just anyone."

Mort smirked at her. "Oh so you're only using me for-"

"An advanced copy of your next book then I'm out." She joked.

Mort pulled her closer to him from where she'd been walking further down the aisle. "Not that easily."

"Why, Mister Rainey, I think you're..."

Dylan stopped when the two realised that Greta Bowie, who had been stocking shelves at the bottom of the aisle was sneakily watching them. Dylan turned back to Mort.

"Okay, let's go back to your cabin."

"Thank you."

* * *

"Please tell me you're not living out of your car."

Dylan frowned at her sister's greeting as she answered her phone. "Hello to you too. What are you talking about?"

"I meant I just ran into your friend, Sandra from one of your magazines. You know, the person you're supposed to be staying with which was news to her."

Dylan grimaced. "Jen, this isn't a big deal."

"Not a big deal? Where do you live?"

"I've been...kind of staying in a hotel."

"Oh my God Dylan, are you sixteen years old?"

"Obviously not, I can afford to stay in a hotel."

"Dylan!"

"Alright." She sighed. "I'm just...staying there until I can figure things out."

"Why didn't you stay with Sandra like you said?"

"Because Sandra is deeply annoying." She heard her sister huff. "And also, because I don't want to be a burden on anyone anymore."

"You're not a burden. You're a sister."

"Look, I'm going to find my own place and this will all be fine."

"You keep saying you're going to find your own place but it's been-"

"I know. I'm taking my time. But I can't afford a new place until I sell the house."

"Money? That's what's holding you back? Dylan..."

"I'm not taking any money. We've had this conversation."

"But you can afford to stay in a hotel? Where are you?"

Dylan looked around Mort's bedroom. She was sitting cross legged on his bed as he was out writing, a wave of inspiration after hitting him. "I'm not actually at a hotel right now."

"Then where are you?"

"At a...friend's house."

Jen grew suspicious by her sister's hesitation. "A friend? It's not that man, is it?"

"He is a friend."

"Not the kind you need to be having when you're trying to get your life in order. No strings relationships never end well."

"This one kind of did."

Jen frowned. "Dylan?"

"There are strings now."

"You mean you two are actually together?"

"Well...Yeah."

"And you're living with him?"

"No!" Dylan said quickly. "No, no, no. I'm just here...being here. Stop being such a mom."

"Oh please, as if our mom ever did this. If we told her you were in a no strings relationship, she would have patted you on the back."

Dylan grimaced. "Don't ever tell mom anything about that ever."

"Ashamed?"

"I'm hanging up now." Dylan said, annoyed before slamming her phone shut. "Damn sisters..."

* * *

"So, you really like them?"

"I do. You're completely beautiful in them."

Dylan smiled. "Aw, look at you being all romantic. I can't believe you actually went and bought the magazine."

"Of course I did. My girl is a model in that magazine."

Dylan chuckled. "I'm hardly a model Mort."

"You could be. You're the prettiest thing in this."

Dylan put the magazine on the coffee table and went onto his lap. "Well gee Mr. Rainey, you really know how to make a girl blush."

Mort chuckled. "Hmm, I wonder if I have the power to make a girl do naughtier things?"

Dylan smiled and brought her lips closer to his. "Most definitely."

* * *

The next morning, Mort was dressed and in his kitchen reading a newspaper. Every so often his eyes would drift over to the magazine. It was weird seeing someone he had just spent the night with on the cover of a magazine. Of course, his face had been printed in many books but still, it was oddly ego boosting to think that the beautiful woman on the cover of that magazine was up asleep in his bed right now.

Mort got up from the table and was about to go up to said woman when he heard a knock at the door. Mort froze. The only person who he didn't mind opening that door to was upstairs.

_Maybe she snuck out and locked herself out._

_Yeah, that's plausible._

_A guy can dream, can't he?_

The knock came again and Mort went over and opened the door.

_Nightmares can happen too._

"Amy."

"Hello Mort."

"What are you doing here?"

"I came by to see if you were okay. Can I come in?"

"No. I'm fine. Goodbye."

Amy sighed and walked inside. Mort's expression grew annoyed as he closed the door and went to join her in the kitchen.

"Amy, there's no reason for you to be here. I signed the papers, I sent them off, we're divorced."

"Mort, I've tried calling you. You never return my calls. I got the papers yesterday."

"Good for you."

"Mort."

"What do you want me to say? I signed them and sent them off. I would be surprised if you didn't get them. Seeing as you did, I remain nonplussed. Is that all?"

"What made you sign them finally?"

Mort looked at her, annoyed. "Amy, you have been pestering me for months to sign them. Now I have and you're still hounding me? I signed them because our marriage is over."

"But why now after six months?"

"Because I wanted to." Mort decided that Dylan was none of Amy's business so he didn't have to tell her anything.

"Oh...okay. So, we're divorced now."

"Yes we are."

"Mort, I am sorry about the way this ended."

Mort rolled his eyes. He didn't need a sympathy talk or a guilty conscience or a pity party. "Fine. Don't worry about it..."

"What?"

"I said don't worry about it. I'm moving on."

"Oh, well I'm glad to hear it. I want you to be happy Mort."

"Alright then."

"I do. You're still very important to me Mort. I want you to know if you need anything..."

"I'll consult the phonebook."

"I want us to be civil to one another."

"What makes you think we're going to talk anymore?"

Amy was silent for a while. "Well I just assumed..."

"How many people do you know that stay on friendly terms with their cheating spouse Amy?"

"I thought you said you were moving on."

"I am. From you. Can't do that if you're still around."

"Mort, please..."

"Amy , I signed the divorce papers. I don't owe you anything. There's no reason for us to talk ever again. Go on and spend your life with Ted and leave me alone."

"I don't want you to be bitter."

"I'm not. I'm annoyed."

"Well I don't want you to be that either."

"Then leave me alone."

"You're always alone. Always locked away in this cabin alone. It's not healthy. Anything could happen to you and who would realise?"

Mort was about to reply when they were interrupted.

"Mort, where are..." Dylan turned into the kitchen from the stairs and froze at the scene. She was wearing Mort's robe and seemed surprised.

"She would." Mort said indicating to Dylan. He seemed perfectly relaxed but inside he was cursing. The one thing he wanted to avoid was this. His past and his present meeting. Who needed that? "Amy, this is Dylan. Dylan, this is Amy."

Dylan smiled while she clutched the front of the robe and ran her other hand through her hair. Amy just looked genuinely shocked to see a woman in the cabin.

"Is something wrong Amy?" Mort asked.

Amy looked at him. "What? I...no. I'm just a little surprised."

"At what?" Mort asked. "Nothing to be surprised about. Now as you can see, everything's fine. No reason for us to keep you here."

"Mort, I still need to talk to you about..."

"No you don't."

"Maybe I should give you two some privacy." Dylan said and she went to leave.

"No," Mort said. "Stay." At the same time Amy had said "Yes, maybe you should."

Mort looked at Amy with a frown and was pleased to see that when he looked at Dylan, she was looking at Amy with a raised eyebrow.

Amy was looking at Mort. "We have to talk."

"We don't."

Amy turned back to Dylan and was about to say something when she stopped. She looked at her properly. "You seem very familiar..."

Dylan stood upright. "I don't know what you mean."

Mort rolled his eyes. "You don't know her Amy." Was she trying to see if Mort had an affair too with someone they had met before or what?

"I've seen you somewhere before." Amy continued.

"We've never met." Dylan said.

Mort realised where Amy had probably seen her. "You've probably just seen her in a picture somewhere." He said and Dylan caught on.

Apparently so did Amy. "You're on the cover of Supreme Magazine. I bought it yesterday." She turned to Mort. "You're dating a model?"

Before Mort could reply Dylan cut in. "I'm not a model. I'm a photographer."

"Aren't the photographers supposed to stay behind the camera?"

Dylan looked at Mort. "I'm going to go leave Chico out. You two can discuss whatever there is to discuss." She walked out of the kitchen but the awkwardness didn't disappear so easily.

"Chico's my dog." Amy said as her eyes stayed where Dylan had previously been. "She's playing around with my dog?"

"Chico was our dog. He's my dog now. And Chico likes Dylan. Chico adores Dylan. Chico couldn't imagine any other person taking him for walks besides Dylan and he doesn't appreciate people making her feel uncomfortable in his home."

"He's a dog Mort. He's my dog."

"I got Chico and you got the house."

"Mort..."

"No Amy, you cannot set him on fire to make it even." Mort quipped sarcastically. "Now, why don't you go back to Ted and leave me and the dog to move on with our lives?"

"Move onto going to bed with a model."

"Photographer. Well, you jumped into bed with a...Gee I don't even know what Ted does, is he a model?"

Amy threw him a tired look. "Ted..."

"Don't care. I don't care about Ted in any respect. The same way you shouldn't about Dylan."

"How long have you two...?"

Mort sighed, annoyed. "A couple of weeks. Shorter than six months."

"A couple of weeks? So before you signed the papers?"

"Well, you were going off with Ted before the papers even existed. You were spoiled for choice."

"I'm not saying that you're wrong. I just..."

"She's why I signed the papers Amy."

That silence again. "Oh. So it's serious?"

"That's none of your business. I signed them because, for the last time, I want to move on. Dylan..."

"Was available?"

"Is a part of my life now. My life is no longer connected to yours in any way."

"It was when you started seeing her."

"Oh, does that make me a whore too?"

"Very nice."

"Look Amy, you've already moved on. It should be no skin off your nose that I try it too. Now I think you should leave."

"Mort, I..."

"I said leave Amy."

Amy sighed and went to the door. "You know where I am."

"Unfortunately. Goodbye."

Amy walked out of the cabin and Mort sighed. The morning had started off so well. He walked over to the side door and walked out of it, finding Dylan sitting on a rock by the lake and watching Chico. He sat beside her.

She stayed looking out at the lake. "So, that was Amy."

"That was Amy."

"She seems..."

"Don't say nice."

Dylan smiled. "That wouldn't be a way I'd describe her."

"Dylan, Amy isn't part of my life anymore. I've made that pretty clear to her and she's gone now. She's not coming back. Ever."

Dylan looked at him. "Good. Because you're mine now."

Mort smiled. "Yes ma'am." He leaned in and kissed her.

"Come on," Mort said when they parted. "Let's get back inside."

Dylan smiled. "You gonna make me breakfast?"

Mort chuckled. "Aw, how cute. You think I can make something more complex than cereal."

Dylan laughed. "Lucky for you, I can."

The two got up and went back inside the house, Chico following them in. No one saw the woman watching them from her car and feeling jealous for reasons she couldn't figure out.

* * *

**Hmmm, I'm beginning to see why Mort became so anti-social...**

**Thanks for reading! Please Review!  
**


	12. Trust Issues

**To lori: It depends on if they let those things get to them! Thank you for the Christmas message!**

**To missie: Thank you!**

**To Paige: Don't worry, I've been having my own problems so I haven't been able to update in a while myself! And Merry Christmas back! I'll definitely do a Christmas chapter sooner or later! Thanks!**

**Here's Chapter 12!**

Ted looked up from the newspaper he was reading when he heard the door open and close. "Amy?"

Amy walked into the living room. "Hey."

"Where were you all day? I was trying to call but your phone was turned off."

Amy was on the chair across from Ted's. "I went to see Mort."

Ted frowned. "Mort? Why would you do that?"

"To talk to him about the papers."

"The divorce papers? The papers that after seven months, he's finally signed so we can get him out of our lives once and for all? What's there to discuss now?"

Amy looked at Ted tiredly. "He was my husband for years, Ted. No matter how much you'd like it, he'll never be out of my life once and for all."

"That doesn't mean you have to actively go and seek him out."

"I was just curious. After all this time, why did he sign the papers now?"

"What does it matter?"

"It matters to me! It's me he was getting divorced from. I wanted to know why he finally agreed to it."

"Because he no longer had to fight for the house?"

"Ted..."

Ted's jaw tensed. "Were you satisfied with the answer he gave?"

"No."

"What was it?"

"He's seeing someone."

Ted's eyebrows shot up. "Like a shrink?"

"A woman."

"Oh," Ted went back to his paper. "Well, good for him."

"Good for him?" Amy frowned. "The man has been a recluse for months and all of a sudden, he's in such a committed relationship, he's signing papers we've been pestering him for months to sign?"

"Well, he can't move on if he won't move on. Signing the papers is a good thing, Amy. Be happy for him and let things be. There's no big conspiracy. He's just getting on with his life. Finally. Now we can get on with ours."

Amy nodded. "You're right. Yeah, I'm just being ridiculous."

She got up and walked into the kitchen to make coffee but she couldn't settle her mind.

_I'm just being ridiculous..._

_Am I?_

* * *

"Okay, I really need to go." Dylan said, sitting up.

Mort sat up with her and didn't stop kissing her neck. "No, you should stay."

"I need to go to work, Mort." She smiled.

"Take more photos of the lake."

Dylan laughed. "While I would prefer to photograph that than big headed actors and small waisted models, that's not what I'm getting paid for."

Just as she said it, her phone went off. Dylan picked it up and looked at the name before cancelling the call. Mort frowned.

"Not important." She explained with a wave of her hand. "But I still have to go."

Mort sighed and let her go. "Fine. Go and take beautiful pictures of beautiful people. I need to write anyway."

"You're writing a new book?"

Mort ruffled his already messy hair. "I'm just brainstorming ideas."

"Speaking of your writing, any news on Shooter?"

Mort shook his head. "I haven't heard from him in a while. I still have Ken looking around though. I can't imagine he'd be so serious one minute and then just abandon his entire plan."

Dylan thought about it. "Maybe he's realised that he can't win. If he did burn down the house, maybe he now realises that he went too far."

"I just don't want to risk anything. The man is obvioulsy insane."

She nodded. "Well, you know what you're doing."

"I hope."

Dylan kissed him. "Listen, why don't we go out tonight? Dinner or something? Maybe leave the cabin for a night?"

Mort's eyebrows shot up. "Oh...Well...What about Chico?"

"Chico will be fine for a few hours." Dylan reassured. "If you want to get your life back to normal, you need to go out and have one."

Mort nodded. "Alright."

"Great." Dylan smiled before kissing him. "I'll call you when I'm finished work."

She got up and walked into the bathroom to go for a shower and Mort put on his boxers and robe. He walked downstairs and went to the fridge which was now filled with food as were his cabinets. He had to admit, it was nice to have someone around who was a good cook.

It was then that Mort remembered.

"Ugh..."

The front door opened and Mrs. Garvey walked in.

"Morning, Mister Rainey."

"Good morning, Mrs. Garvey."

_I am going to be nice._

"How are you today?" Mort asked.

Mrs. Garvey frowned for a second. "Fine."

"That's good."

Mrs. Garvey looked around, noticing how there wasn't much to be cleaned. "And how are you?"

"Very good."

"That's nice..." Mrs. Garvey nodded. "Do you need me to go into town for any reason today?"

"No, thank you. Have everything I need."

"Hmmm..."

After a while of Mrs. Garvey pottering around and Mort trying to staying polite, Dylan came down the stairs, cancelling another call that was coming into her phone. She looked up as she finished walking down the stairs.

"Morning, Mrs. Garvey."

"Morning dear." Mrs. Garvey replied though her tone gave away her lack of feeling for the endearment.

Dylan smiled before turning to Mort. "Walk me to my car?"

Mort got up and walked outside with Dylan.

"She still doesn't like me." Dylan smiled. "I think she feels I'm taking over her territory."

"Nah, her and I were only a one night thing."

Dylan laughed. "I can't believe you'd even joke about that."

"Joke?"

"If you're trying to make me jealous Mister Rainey, you are definitely failing." They got to her car.

Mort chuckled. "I would have thought she have loved you. Plenty of gossip."

"There's no scandal." Dylan smiled. "You're divorced. You're a free man."

"Maybe that's why she's in a bad mood."

Dylan's phone went off and she huffed, cancelling the call again. She looked up at Mort.

"I'll call you later." Dylan said.

Mort nodded, his curiousity at him now. "So we can go out. But you're staying here tonight?"

"If you want me to."

"Of course I do." He kissed her. "I'll see you later."

* * *

"Are you sure this guy even exists?"

Mort frowned. "What do you mean am I sure? I've seen him with my own eyes, of course I'm sure."

"Well," Ken shrugged. "I cannot find any information on a John Shooter and according to my connections at the police, neither can they. It's like the guy came out of thin air. And gone back into it. I can't find him."

Mort sighed. "Neither can I. I haven't seen him in weeks."

"Maybe he got scared, ran off."

"That doesn't unburn down the house."

"You don't know for definite he did it."

"Are there any other suspects?"

"Not that I've heard of."

"Well..."

"Mort, I've been around your town, I've been around your cabin, I can't find a scrap of information on this guy and now that he's not even hassling you anymore, I'm not sure I'm going to."

"This guy threatened my entire life. And now he's disappeared. I don't trust that. I don't want to be constantly looking over my shoulder in case he comes back."

Ken sighed. "Look, I'll keep my eyes and ears open but if he hasn't contacted you in this long and there's been no sign of him, maybe you should just consider yourself lucky."

"And what about the arson charge?"

"The police are still working on it. They're not going to stop."

Mort huffed. "So I'm just supposed to forget about this whole thing?"

"Mort, this is a good thing. The crazy man has left you alone."

"For how long?"

"Let's hope it's for a good long while."

* * *

"So he said just let it go?"

"Not in so many words but yeah, he said I should count myself lucky."

Mort unlocked the door and they walked into the cabin.

"Well, can it be counted as lucky if the whole thing was a very unlucky thing to happen in the first place?" Dylan asked as Mort helped her out of her coat.

"I don't know." Mort sighed. "I'm just hoping the police find him. There's nothing else I can do for now. I don't anything about this guy or where he could be."

"That's really not something to feel secure in." Dylan frowned. "But maybe your detective is right. Shooter realised he was out of his depth and took off."

"One can only hope. But that's enough about Shooter," Mort turned to her. "I didn't want to think about him when he was around, I definitely don't want to think about him now that he's not."

"Oh? Anything else on your mind?" Dylan smirked.

"A few things." Mort said, kissing her. Dylan smiled as she parted the kiss.

"I would be more than happy to hear you elaborate on that but first I would much like to get out of this very uncomfortable dress."

"Funny, that was on my list." Mort smirked.

Dylan laughed. "I'll be back in a second."

She walked up the stairs and Mort walked over to the couch where Chico was lying. He started scruffing the dog's fur before he heard a ringing coming from her bag. He got up and walked over it and got the phone to bring to Dylan but the name on the screen stopped him.

_Wes._

Mort frowned. Wes? Wasn't that the guy who she had been going out on a date with when they weren't together briefly? Then Mort remembered that Dylan had been cancelling calls coming into her phone that morning.

_Why is he still calling her?_

_Why wouldn't she tell me?_

Mort didn't know why he did it but he cancelled the call and put the phone back into her bag.

"Okay, I may look less sexy but when I say I'm getting into something more comfortable, I mean it."

Mort looked as Dylan walked down the stairs, now wearing his robe.

"Less sexy? Impossible." He said, wrapping his arms around her waist.

Dylan smiled. "Such a charmer." She kissed him as Mort held her tighter. Like he expected, the kiss was interrupted when her phone started ringing again. She huffed as she parted the kiss and looked at the phone before cancelling it.

"Someone must really want to talk to you." Mort pointed out.

"I'm busy." Dylan tried to go back to kiss him but Mort pulled away.

"What if it's work?"

"It's not."

"Or one of your sisters?"

Dylan frowned. "You're very curious all of a sudden."

"You've just been cancelling calls all day."

"Then they're obviously not important."

"Well, whoever it is keeps calling you so obviously they have something important to say."

Dylan was beginning to grow suspicious. "Why do you care so much?"

"I'm not supposed to care about you?"

"I never said that. I just don't understand why you won't let a phonecall go."

"It's not just one phonecall though, is it?"

"You're beginning to sound like you think I'm working for Shooter again."

The phone went off again and the both of them huffed.

"He must really want to talk to you." Mort said before walking to the couch.

Dylan turned to him. "He? You know who it is?"

"Phone went off while you were getting changed."

"And you looked at it and then didn't tell me?"

"Why is he calling you at all?"

"I don't know. In case you haven't noticed, I've been cancelling his calls."

"Well why not tell him that you want nothing to do with him?"

"I thought I made that clear by ignoring him."

"Obviously not seeing as..." Mort let the ringing explain itself.

Dylan huffed. "Why are you getting jealous over this?"

"I'm not going to be made a fool of again."

"Again? You're thinking I'm going to do what Amy did? Mort!"

"What? You're getting calls off another man and you didn't say anything!"

"Mort, I'm not you wife. You need to realise that and you need to trust me if this is ever going to work, if you want this to work."

"Of course I want this to work. I wouldn't be in it otherwise."

"Well, good." Dylan said. "Because if you can't trust me now, there's no point in any of this."

"I do trust you!"

"Then why would you hide a call from me?"

"Why wouldn't you tell me at all?"

"This isn't you trusting me! Mort, I know what it's like to be apprehensive about trusting people after being betrayed by someone you loved, believe me! But if I can learn to live past it and love someone else then so can you!"

Mort was about to reply but froze before frowning. "Did you...Did you just say you loved me?"

Dylan realised and her eyes widened. "No, no I didn't."

"The word you used..."

"I know but...No! It is too early for that. No, it was just a slip of the tongue."

Mort seemed to relax. "Right. We've only been going out for a few weeks."

"Just over a month."

"Yeah, so it's a bit soon for..."

"Definitely."

Mort and Dylan descended into the awkward silence that had been absent for so long. This time it was Mort's phone ringing that interrupted them.

Mort looked at Dylan for a few seconds before going over to answer it.

"Hello?"

"Mort?"

As if his night couldn't get any worse. "What is it, Amy?"

"I'm just calling to see how you are."

Mort frowned. "Amy, are you drunk?"

"I've been so worried about you, are you okay?"

"I'm okay, Amy."

"Are you sure?"

"Amy, where's Ted?"

Amy stayed silent.

Mort frowned. "Amy?"

"Do you...Do you think things would have been different...if we hadn't lost the baby?"

"Jesus Christ," Mort grimaced. "Amy, I don't know." Mort had noticed that Dylan was no longer in the room. "Let...Let me call you later, okay?"

He heard Amy burst into hysterics.

Mort rolled his eyes. "Alright, just...Breathe. Take a breath."

"I didn't go with other men, you know. I always wanted to tell you that.  
I didn't go with other men. Only Ted, and only the last few months after you and me were already over."

"Well, if we were already over while we were still together, you might have mentioned it. Because it was news to me." Mort huffed, not wanting to get into another fight but honestly? That was the best she could come up with?

"That's because you weren't there anymore! You were gone all the time!"

"I worked at home, Amy."

_I thought signing the papers was getting rid of all this?_

"That's not what I mean. Even when you were with me, you were gone up in your head. I don't think that I looked in your eyes and actually saw you looking back at me, I mean, really with me for the last two years."

Mort looked in the kitchen for Dylan but she wasn't in there. He wanted to get Amy off the phone and finish his conversation with Dylan but he wasn't having much luck with Amy like this. "You know what? You know what, you're right. You're absolutely right. It's all my fault."

_Go away now!_

"No. I was a chickenshit. Ted wanted us to go and tell you together. He kept asking and I kept putting it off. I'll never forget that look on your face."

_Oh for the love of..._

"You know what? I gotta go." Mort said, realising that Amy was no longer his wife and so, no longer his problem. He didn't need to take care of her moods anymore.

"No Mort, wait. Can't we just-"

"No! I...I've gotta go!"

"Will you call me if you need me?"

Mort saw Dylan fully dressed, coming down the stairs.

"I doubt it. Goodbye."

Amy frowned. "Is she there?"

"Goodbye, Amy."

"No, wait. Mort..."

Mort hung up the phone. "What are you doing?"

"I'm gonna go." Dylan said, getting her bag.

"What? Why?"

She turned back to Mort. "I just accidentally said I love you. I think that's the appropriate time to depart."

"So, you're just leaving?" Mort asked.

"I'm not leaving." Dylan replied. "I'm just going. I'll be back. Mort, this is one fight. Our first fight. There'll hopefully be plenty more." Dylan kissed him on the cheek. "I'll see you soon." She said before she left the cabin.

Mort flopped down on the couch.

_Saying she loves me by accident?_

_Do you wish it wasn't by accident?_

Mort thought about it.

_Yeah, I kinda do._

**Sorry for taking so long to update! My memory stick holding all my stories broke and so I lost everything!**

**I've always found that conversation interesting in the movie, like Amy was really regretting her decision so I wanted to make it even more interesting by having Mort not being in turmoil over his divorce like she was in that scene! And I think Mort is confusing his feelings with his trust and maybe the L word? Hmmm...**

**Thanks for reading! Please Review!**


	13. Moving Ahead

**To lori: Thanks! Happy (very late) new year to you too!**

**To Paige: Thank you!**

**Here's Chapter 13!**

"I like these ones..."

Dylan was interrupted from choosing pictures for a spread when her phone rang. She looked at the others in the room. "Excuse me."

She walked out of the office and answered it. "Hello?"

"Hey."

Dylan let out a quiet sigh of relief at the sound of Mort's voice. "Hey."

"Look, about the other night..."

"Forget about it." Dylan interrupted. "I was being stupid."

"I may have been a little foolish myself." Mort smiled, thankful that she wasn't angry at his behaviour. "I know there's nothing going on."

"I suppose I can understand. I mean, I get the losing trust thing but I wasn't cheated on." Dylan shrugged. "It would be hard to remain completely...trustful after that without at least some insecurity over it happening again. But Mort, I swear it wasn't anything. I wasn't trying to keep my options open and I wasn't only not answering when I was around you. I'm just annoyed at the guy and don't want to talk to him. But I did and I told him not to call me again and he won't."

Mort frowned. "What did he do?"

Dylan sighed. "He wasn't you."

Mort smiled. "Dinner tonight?"

"Sure. I can call up after work if you..."

"No, I'm taking you out." Mort smirked. "I'll pick you up at seven thirty?"

Dylan smiled. "Sounds good."

* * *

Dylan was just putting her earrings in when there was a knock on her door. She walked over and opened it to see Mort on the other side.

"Hey."

"You look great." Mort said before pressing a quick kiss against her lips.

"Thank you." Dylan smiled. "I'm nearly ready."

She was about to go finish getting ready but Mort kept a hold of her hand and brought her back to face him. "Actually, I have to talk to you."

Dylan frowned. "What is it? Is something wrong?"

"No, nothing's wrong." Mort replied. "I just...About what you said the other night..."

Dylan sighed. "Oh, I was really hoping that we could..."

"I love you."

Dylan looked up at Mort quickly. "What did you just say?"

Mort smiled. "I said I love you. I realised that I didn't want you saying it to be an accident."

Dylan was delighted. "I...I love you too."

Mort wrapped his arms around her. "You're not just saying that by accident again?"

Dylan laughed. "No. I never said it by accident. You just looked terrified when I did so I did the cowardly thing and ran."

Mort kissed her, not being able to get over how much his life has changed so quickly due to this one woman. How could he not love her?

The kiss continued as they made their way to the bed and fell onto it. Mort's hands went to the back of her dress and began to unzip it. His lips went to her neck and Dylan remembered.

"We're going to be late for..."

"Don't care."

* * *

Jen walked into her house, back from grocery shopping and went to her machine where a message was waiting. She pressed the button and heard an unfamiliar voice fill the kitchen.

"Danny?" Jen frowned, realising it was for her husband but still not knowing who it was. She knew his friends and co-workers on the police department but she didn't know this voice. "This is Richie Maynor from the Riverdale police department. We spoke a few weeks ago about the Rainey House fire that you cooperated with. About that, if it's possible, we're going to need you to bring your sister in law into the station. We're at a dead end and our only suspect was Mort Rainey so we're just going to need to ask her a few more questions about that night. Call me when you can."

The message ended and Jen stood frozen.

_Mort Rainey, only suspect in a house fire?_

_I'm going to kill Dylan._

"Hey sweetheart."

"Don't 'hey sweetheart' me." Jen said, turning to her husband angrily. "You got a message."

She pressed the button and the message replayed. She saw her husband's eyes get wider.

"I told them to call me at the station."

"What the hell is going on, Dan?" Jen asked. "My sister is involved with some guy who sets house fires and you don't think to tell me?"

"No. Look, Dylan came to me, told me that a friend of hers was in trouble. He was being suspected of a crime that he couldn't have committed because she was with him. She just asked that I call up some contacts I have and let them know that he wasn't worth looking into. She asked me not to tell you."

"Not to tell me? Who's your wife? Me or her?"

"She knew he didn't do it."

"Well, it seems they didn't agree. They're still looking into him! He's their only suspect."

"Look, Dylan is a grown woman. She knows better not to lie to the police for a guy. She's been through enough with lunatics."

Jen just hoped Dylan knew what she was doing and more importantly, who she was seeing.

_She'll be fine. She knows better._

_She wouldn't just lie to save some guy just cause he was showing her a good time._

_Things couldn't be that serious yet._

* * *

"Why do you live in a hotel room?"

Dylan smiled as her back lay up against Mort's chest. "I couldn't stand staying with my sisters any longer."

"Why don't you find somewhere permanent to live?" Mort asked as he was playing with her fingers as her hand was in his.

Dylan sighed. "I can't afford it. I need to sell the house first."

"How can you afford to stay in a hotel?"

"Well, I don't actually...I have an understanding with the hotel manager."

Mort frowned. "This I'm interested in."

Dylan smiled. "Well, the deal is I can stay here if I use the hotel in celebrity photoshoots and have it mentioned in the magazines and stuff so people think that the place is a hot spot. It's basically free advertising."

"I didn't think you could get away with that."

"You can if you know the right people." Dylan smirked.

"And you know the right people?"

Dylan turned so instead of resting her back against him, she was facing him. She looked into his eyes. "Definitely."

Mort kissed her but another thought entered his head as the kiss ended.

"Is that the only reason?" He asked. "That you're not trying to find a new place? The money?"

Dylan sat up. "What do you mean?"

"Well, before it got burned down, I really loved that house." Mort explained.

Dylan looked down at their hands. "That...may be...a factor." She sighed. "No, it's not. Truthfully, money isn't even that big of a problem. I mean, I could never afford to live in a house as big as my old one but I could find a nice apartment easily. I just really, really loved that house. It was my home. The thought of getting rid of it and moving somewhere new is daunting at the best of times."

Mort lifted her chin to make her look at him. "And there's not a chance you could live there?"

Dylan shook her head. "No. I loved that house but every time I go in there, it just brings back those memories. I can't live there. Actually if anything, I'd better start clearing the place out. My entire life is in that house. I can't keep asking my sisters to go and get things because going in there is a nightmare. I'll just have to get over it and find somewhere new to live. I can't keep staying here."

Mort kissed her shoulder. "You know if you want to stay in the cabin with me while you look..."

Dylan turned back to him. "Really?"

"Why not? I mean, what's the point in driving from here to work to me then back to here?"

Dylan nodded. "But this would only be while I find my own place, right? Because I mean, saying I love you is one thing but living together..."

"It's only while you're finding somewhere." Mort nodded. She was right, it was too soon to consider living together but her staying with him? Not only would that get her out of the hotel but it'd also help him get his life back together in the long run. He had to get out of the recluse lifestyle he'd become accustomed to and this could be a helpful next step. But he couldn't see himself living with someone completely this early yet. "I'm not trying to rush you into anything."

Dylan smiled and kissed him. "I love you."

Mort couldn't help but break out in a smile himself. "I love you too."

"I can't believe it. You, Mort Rainey, telling me you love me. You wouldn't even let me into your house the first time you saw me."

"I was an idiot when I met you."

Dylan chuckled. "No, you were what I fell in love with."

"I don't even know what that says about you." Mort joked.

"I guess it means I'm an idiot too."

"I don't care." Mort smiled. "If you can get me out of that cabin and passed...everything, you're already too good for me."

Dylan shook her head before she laid her head on his shoulder. "I wish I had met you years ago."

Mort wrapped his arms around her. "Years ago, I was married."

Dylan nuzzled into him. "Oh yeah, there was that little hindrance."

Mort had a sudden thought. If he had met Dylan when he was still with Amy, what would have happened? Would he have been having an affair too? Would he have not even seen her as an interest?

"Mort? Are you alright? You've gone very quiet."

"I'm fine." Mort said quickly. "Just...thinking."

"Care to say what about?"

Mort kissed her on the side of her head. "Just that I love you."

Dylan smiled. "I like hearing that already."

* * *

**Sorry for the late update! I'm extremely busy! But yay, love! But boo, fire!**

**Thanks for reading! Please Review!**


	14. Getting Used To Things

**To lori: Thank you! I know, she's quite lucky!**

**Here's Chapter 14!**

"Are you sure you're alright with this?"

Mort looked from Chico rolling around in the leaves to Dylan as they sat outside. "Hmm?"

"Me staying with you." She clarified.

Dylan hadn't missed how throughout the day, Mort had been looking a little hesitant at the thought of her being around the cabin all the time. She was afraid he might be having second thoughts.

"What? No, no, no. I'm…fine."

Dylan raised an eyebrow. "Mort?"

"It's just…I haven't lived with anyone in a while." Mort said. "I have to…you know, do more than just lie around in my bathrobe now. I can't just shove clothes under the bed when someone, or just you I suppose, comes over. I can't…"

"Mort," Dylan smiled. "I've been too lazy to live somewhere permanently. Believe me; you can still do all those things."

"I don't know," Mort shrugged. "Doesn't that kind of kill the romance?"

"I've read your books, Mort. Is romance really your thing?"

"Excuse me," Mort said, jokingly offended. "I may not be able to write great romances because frankly the thought of my name being attached to something like that makes me feel icky but I can certainly demonstrate it when needs be."

"Oh really?" Dylan smirked. "I'd love to see that for a change."

"Do you want to sleep under the sink?"

"Hell no, I want to see if you're all talk or if there's a hidden Casanova under that messy hair and glasses."

"Well then, I think it's about time we go inside."

"Ooh, are you going to make me a candlelit meal?"

"The sooner you accept the fact that I cannot now nor will I ever be able to cook, the happier we'll all be."

Dylan smiled and got up, her hand staying in his. "Alright, I'll cook."

"And I'll make compliments while you do so." Mort said, getting up too. He looked back at the dog. "Come on, Chico."

"Do you think you could manage to feed him?"

"I'm not that useless."

"We'll see."

"Seriously, going under the sink."

* * *

Mort was awoken that night to the sound of a phone ringing. He felt Dylan move beside him.

"Hello?" Mort heard Dylan say sleepily. "She is? Okay, call me when she...What? Why? Okay, okay, fine, I'll be right there."

Dylan hung up the phone and began getting up.

"Where are you going?" Mort asked. "It's the middle of the night."

Dylan yawned. "My sister is having a baby. Apparently that can't happen without all of us there."

"Oh…Should I…?"

"No, you don't have to." Dylan smiled, reaching down to kiss him. "But thank you for asking. Alas, it'll just be hanging around a hospital waiting room for a few hours. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Call me in the morning or whenever your sister has…gives…passes?"

Dylan chuckled. "I'll call you. Give you time to stuff your clothes under the bed." She smirked.

"You know me so well."

* * *

"Okay, I'm here. How is she?"

Penny looked up as Dylan entered the waiting room. "She's fine. Contractions are normal or…something." She shrugged.

"Oh, that maternal knowledge of yours."

"Ugh." Penny grimaced. "Why do we need to all be here when she's in labour? It's not like we can do anything."

"I think it's called support." Dylan replied.

"Isn't that what nurses are for?"

"You're so nice."

"I was on a date, I'll have you know. I just had to up and leave."

Dylan frowned. "A date? It's three o' clock in the morning."

"Exactly. It was going really well!"

"Ew."

"Oh please, don't act like you weren't with your new luvva."

"Sleeping! Just sleeping. Anyway, it wasn't our first date!"

The two stayed silent for a while before Penny spoke again.

"So, when are we meeting him?"

"Ha, good one."

"What?" Penny frowned. "This is your first boyfriend since the psycho; I want to meet him if he has the ability to get you dating again."

Dylan shook her head. "No way."

"Why not? It's just me."

"But it's not just you. If I let you meet him, I have to let them all meet him. If there were ever a reason for a guy to run a mile, it's being bombarded by his new girlfriend's gaggle of crazy sisters."

"You're still his 'new' girlfriend?"

Dylan frowned. "No. We've brought love into the equation so I think that pretty much puts me firmly in the relationship category instead of the 'casual dating' one."

"But?" Penny asked, knowing her sister.

"It's just…I don't want to assume anything, you know?"

"After saying I love you and practically moving in with the guy, you're still worried over assuming you're together? Really?"

"It's just…It's going a little fast which is okay for me because I've always kind of lived that way..."

"Yeah, I remember. Running off to take pictures in Paris for a month at nineteen. Mom and dad loved that. The weird thing is I'm not speaking sarcastically."

"That's another thing," Dylan nodded. "I'd have to introduce him to mom and dad. I'm going to have to give him a crash course in crazy before that happens."

"That I do agree with. Now, you were talking about going too fast before you tried to change the subject."

Dylan sighed. "Not too fast, just fast. And I'm that kind of person but I'm not sure if Mort is."

"Would he really be on board for all this if he wasn't?"

"That's what I'm worried about, what if he's acting like this because of his divorce? What if I'm just some rebound and if his wife comes back, he'll want his old life back?"

"You don't tell rebounds that you love them. You don't offer to let rebounds live with you. You don't divorce said wife, now ex-wife, to make things serious with a rebound! You're doing it, I knew you would."

Dylan frowned. "Doing what? What did you know I'd do?"

"You're looking for excuses. You're terrified of getting into another relationship and you're terrified of all these feelings coming back into your life so you're looking for a way out. And you're using his wife to do it."

"You didn't see how she looked at him." Dylan defended. "There was regret in those pretty brown eyes."

"You have the pretty brown eyes. And if she was all loved up for him, would she really have had an affair?"

"I don't know, maybe? Maybe she's regretting it now that Mort is gone."

"Or maybe you're using her to deflect from the fact that you're terrified of feeling for someone else what you felt for Ryan."

"You didn't see the way she looked at him."

"I've never even seen him."

"Penny…"

"Look, I know it's scary. Your last boyfriend, fiancé even, tried to kill you. Of course it's going to be hard to get back into the swing of things but you can't let what Ryan did stop you from moving on with your life."

Dylan nodded. "Mort would never hurt me like Ryan did."

"Then hold onto him. Stop worrying about going too fast or exes or being a rebound. Just enjoy what life throws at you. You used to be good at that."

"I still am!"

"Oh, please. You used to be uncontainable. Now you're too scared to get a new house."

"I am not too scared. I'm looking for one right now."

"Well, good. I'm glad to hear it."

"There you are!"

Both Dylan and Penny turned to see Jen standing in the doorway. Dylan frowned when her oldest sister looked at her angrily.

"Did I do something?"

"Did you do something? Did you do something?"

"Isn't that what I just asked?"

"Well let's try to remember, shall we?" Jen said sarcastically. "Oh yeah, now I remember. Fake an alibi for your new sex buddy!"

"Actually, they're in love now." Penny pointed out.

"Perfect." Jen huffed.

Dylan was still frowning. "Who told you that? Did Danny tell you that?"

"I overheard one of his messages but that is not the point! Dylan, what were you thinking?"

"Well, first of all, I wasn't lying." Dylan lied. "Second of all, he didn't do anything wrong. Third of all, how is it your business? He was suspected, I knew he didn't do it, I came forward, the end."

"Not the end. They want you back in for questioning."

Dylan's eyes widened. "What?"

"See?" Jen said. "Why so nervous if you're not lying?"

"I'm not lying! I'm just…Why are they still looking into him?"

"He's their only lead."

Penny cut in. "Wait, wait, what is going on?"

"Our little sister," Jen explained. "Has gotten into a relationship with the only suspect in an arson case. And she covered for him."

"Because it's the truth." Dylan said.

"Oh please, Dylan, I've seen what he writes. Setting fire to a house would fit only too well in his books."

"There is a big difference between imagination and madness." Dylan said. "Mort is a writer, he writes fiction! Just because he writes about somebody murdering their wife doesn't mean he's going to go out and do it himself. It's a story!"

"Wait; is your Mort, Mort Rainey?" Penny asked. "Aw Dylan, now I have to meet him!"

Dylan and Jen looked at her tiredly.

"What?" Penny asked. "I have a lot of time to read when I'm travelling for work. I do read, you know."

Dylan looked back at Jen. "Jen, you've never met the man so don't pretend you know anything about him. I know Mort didn't set that fire and if police want to see me, I'll go. But the fact that you're storming in here and shouting your head off at me without knowing all, or any in fact, of the details isn't making me too sure about you. You should trust my judgement."

"We did that before and we ended up here!" Jen said, indicating to the hospital room.

Dylan's jaw tensed and she stood up. "I'm going to go see Cathy."

She walked out of the room and Jen sighed, regretting her last statement.

"Good going." Penny said.

"I'm only trying to make sure she's okay. Of all the people for her to try and recover with…"

"Do you ever think that maybe she's not using him to recover rather he just helped her do so anyway while she was falling in love with him? A guy who can do that? I'd say that's just what she needs."

Jen sat down. "But her past judgement in guys…"

"Has been awful, yes, but have you ever actually seen a picture of Mort Rainey? The guy is completely normal. Glasses, nice hair, good looking, he's not what you're expecting at all, I'll tell you that."

"We thought Ryan was normal. And Dylan won't introduce us to him."

"Well that's to protect him."

"What do you mean protect him? We're not vultures."

"Think of how you stormed in here and then say that with a straight face."

Jen sighed. "Alright, I get it. The big sister act is getting tiring. What do you want from me? I'm used to it."

"Well, this isn't about you. This is about our sister and helping her get her life back on track. And from the sounds of it, Mort Rainey, despite some questionable allegations against him, is the guy to do it."

"You're sure?"

"Like I said, completely normal guy."

* * *

_That's weird. I don't remember writing that._

Mort had been about to empty his recycle bin on his laptop and was just checking to make sure he wasn't permanently deleting a file he needed when one particular file jumped out at him. He recovered and opened it and though the writing style seemed like his, Mort had no recollection of ever writing the few pages in front of him.

_The characters, the setting, nothing. I didn't write this._

Mort was incredibly confused. If he didn't write this, who did? This was his computer and it was password protected. Who could get into it, write a chapter and then delete it?

_Was it…No, no._

"It couldn't have been…"

_I think it's clear by now that that man can go to extraordinary lengths to fuck you around._

"How could he have gotten into the house? And when?"

_You did spend the night with Dylan in her hotel room. Could have come in then._

"That doesn't explain how. No signs of a break in…Anyway, why come in and write something, only to delete it?"

_To mess with you._

"There's no guaranteeing I would have ever seen this. I could have just clicked 'Empty all'. It doesn't make sense."

_None of what Shooter's done makes sense._

"How'd he get my password?"

_It's all right in front of you._

Mort's thoughts were interrupted when there was a knock on the door. He frowned before getting up and walking down to answer it. He was not at all happy to see Amy on the other side.

"What are you doing here, Amy?"

"I came to give you this." Amy said, holding something out for Mort to take. "It was recovered from the fire. It's not too damaged."

Mort took it and realised it was his father's old pocket watch, given to Mort just before his father died. Mort looked back up at Amy. "Thank you. Means a lot."

"I know it does." Amy said. "I just…It's only fair I return it to you. Your father never liked me."

"No, he didn't." Amy frowned. "But only because he thought you were too good for me and it'd come back to bite me one day. Bet he's laughing his ass off in the sky now, huh?"

"Mort, I'm trying to be nice."

"I know. Sorry. And thank you for bringing the watch to me."

He was waiting to close the door but she wasn't walking away.

"Is there something else?"

"Well, it's…Can I come in?"

Mort sighed. "I guess."

He opened the door wider and Amy walked in. She looked around but frowned when she saw some new things scattered around the cabin. "You're redecorating?"

"If I was, it'd be pretty half-assed. No, I'm not."

"Then where did all these…" Amy realised. She turned to Mort. "Did she move in with you?"

Mort huffed. "She has a name."

"Hmm, Dylan. Kooky."

"I like it."

"You've never liked kooky."

"She's not kooky and I used to be quite koo…Okay, I can't say that ridiculous word anymore. I used to be fun before my life and everything I knew was turned upside down. So now I'm trying to get it back."

"And she's already living with you?"

"Tell me Amy," Mort said, folding his arms. "Where are you staying?"

Amy nodded. "Okay, fine. You got me. Well done."

"I'm not the one coming into your life to question your decisions. I'll admit, I gave it a go when we were married but…"

Mort was cut off when the phone rang. He walked over and picked it up.

"Hello."

"Hey."

She sounded exhausted.

"Is everything good?"

"Baby girl, both mom and baby are fine."

"That's great news."

"Mort, are you alright?" Dylan asked. "You sound kind of…tense."

"No, everything's fine."

"Is your tone of voice giving us away?" Amy smirked. "Oh come on, we all know I'm a big cheater but you look down on it so much. How could she possibly expect…?"

Dylan frowned, hearing Amy's voice. "Mort?"

"Excuse me a second." Mort said before putting the phone on the table. He walked over to Amy and grabbed her arm, dragging her to the door. "I don't know what your problem is Amy, and I don't want to know. I divorced your crazy so go back to Ted and let him deal with it."

He threw her out and closed the door before hurrying back to the phone. "Dylan?"

"Mort?"

"I can explain. It's not what it sounded like."

"It sounded like your ex-wife was there."

"She was just dropping by something that was found in the remains of the house. That's all."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't I believe that?"

"No, you should! It's the truth."

"Okay."

"So," Mort asked. "Will you be home soon?"

"Home?"

Mort smiled. "You heard me."

"I'm going to stay here for a while, actually. I'm not feeling too great so just to be on the safe side. I'll just get a ride back to Penny's or something. I don't really trust myself driving, especially for that long. Safe side."

"Safe side?" Mort frowned. "There needs to be a safe side? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. My stomach is just killing me and...well, less pleasant details. Might be food poisoning from last night."

"But I had what you had and I'm fine."

"I could just have a bug. I'll call you soon."

"Why don't I come and pick you up? I'll drive you back here."

"No!" Dylan said quickly. "I mean, that would lead to you meeting my family. I haven't prepared you for that yet."

"I need to go to boot camp before I can meet your family?"

"For your sake, believe me. It's quite a task."

"Are you sure I can't come up there?"

"No, don't worry, I'm fine. I'll just sleep it off. Trust me."

"Alright."

"I love you."

Mort smiled. "Love you too."

They hung up their phones and Mort got up but stopped when he looked out the window and saw Amy's car still there with her sitting in it.

_No, I'm not going out there. I'm not indulging her._

Mort walked away from the window and into the kitchen, getting a can of soda.

_Maybe I should go see Dylan anyway. How bad can her family be?_

_Well, she doesn't want you to. She might not be too happy if you show up there anyway._

_Or she might think it was nice that I came to see her._

_If she's going to her sister's, it'd be a little hard to find her considering you don't know where that sister lives._

_Right…_

Mort looked out the window to see the car still there.

_Damnit Amy, what are you doing?_

_No, I don't care. I do not care._

Mort looked away from the window and went back upstairs. He returned to his computer and still there was the mystery file.

_Forgot about that._

_Maybe I did write it, thought it was shit and deleted it?_

_I'd still remember it._

_Shooter hasn't been around here in a long time. There's no reason that he would do this._

Mort realised that if it was done by him and he just didn't remember, there was nothing to worry about except maybe his own memory functioning. If it hadn't been him, something that seemed very implausible, he didn't know what to do.

_Delete it. Just make it go away._

_What are you going to do? Call the cops and say there's a document on my computer that I don't think I wrote? They'll laugh you out of the station. Just delete it and forget it._

Mort pressed the delete button and emptied the recycling bin, getting rid of the document forever. He couldn't resist pulling his hidden packet of cigarettes out and lighting one up.

_I wonder would Dylan mind if I started doing this regularly again…_

When he was done, Mort opened a new document and began brainstorming new ideas that he had been having lately. It was only when he walked downstairs a while later to get food that he saw Amy's car still outside.

_You've got to be kidding me._

_She's been sitting out there all this time?_

He huffed and walked outside. "What are you still doing here?"

Amy kept looking out the windshield. "That was our cabin, Mort. Our cabin. For getaways and when we had kids…We were going to bring them here on summer vacation, remember?"

"I remember. But now it's my cabin and I'm sharing it with the new woman in my life, the same way you were planning on sharing the house we lived in together with Ted."

"Do you always need to bring him up?"

"When you're acting like this, it's a little irresistible."

"Do you love her?"

"Yes, I do."

Amy shook her head. "This wasn't supposed to be what our life together was like."

"We don't have a life together anymore. Jesus, Amy, I can see what you're doing."

Amy finally looked at him. "What I'm doing?"

"You're trying to have your cake and eat it too. Or should I say, you're trying to have your husband and bit on the side. I know what you thought would happen, Amy. You'd go off with Ted and rediscover yourself and a new life or whatever crap you came up with but if you didn't like it, good ol' Mort would be cooped up here in this cabin waiting for you to come back. Well, that's not the way it works. We got divorced and I moved on. Now go home, Amy because whether you like it or not, that's not with me anymore."

Mort heard his phone ringing again and looked at the cabin before looking back through the car window. "Don't come back, Amy. It's not doing you or anyone else any favours."

He walked away back into the house and picked up the phone. "Hello?"

"Mort?"

Mort looked to see Amy had followed him into the house.

"Mort? Mort Rainey?" Mort heard on the other end. "It's Penny Saunders, Dylan's sister."

Mort frowned. "Is something wrong?"

"Yes." Amy said.

"Sort of." Penny replied. "You see, that stomach ache of Dylan's? Actually an appendicitis. She's going to have to go for surgery like right now."

"Mort, we need to talk." Amy said.

"I'll be right there." Mort said into the phone before hanging up and running to get his keys. "I said everything I need to say and now I'm leaving. Guess what? So are you."

"Where are you going? Was that her?"

"Amy, I don't have time for this."

"So you're going to just run off and not talk to me? Because she clicked her fingers?"

For the second time that day, Mort dragged his ex-wife out of the cabin. "Amy, for the love of God, go home."

Mort locked up and went to his car, getting in.

"Mort!"

He started the engine and sped off, leaving Amy standing alone, looking after him.

* * *

**Oh, Amy...**

**Thanks for reading! Please Review!**


	15. Need

**Here's Chapter 15!**

Mort walked into the hospital and up to the reception quickly.

"I'm looking for Dylan Saunders."

"When did she come in?" The nurse asked.

"Only a few hours ago, I think. Appendicitis."

The nurse nodded and went to her computer.

"Mort? Mort Rainey?"

Mort looked over to see a blonde woman walking up to him. "Yes?"

"I'm Penny, Dylan's sister? We spoke on the phone."

Mort walked over to her, shaking her hand. "Nice to meet you. How is she?"

"She's fine. She's out of surgery and all. Just really groggy."

"Can I see her?"

Penny nodded and led him away.

"When Dylan told me she was dating a Mort, I had no idea you were the author."

Mort nodded. He didn't understand why since he was fine with Dylan but he was still awkward around people. He seriously had to work on that. "Oh, yeah. You've read my books?"

"Read them? I'm the one who recommended them to Dylan. She said she couldn't be bothered reading books that just depended on shock value to get sold but I brought her round." Penny realised she'd effectively just gotten her sister in it. "Now I understand why Dylan was putting off this meeting."

"It's fine." Mort said.

"She admitted she was wrong, once she read them."

"Good to know." Mort nodded. Before they could get into the awkward silence Mort could feel coming, he spoke again. "How's your sister? The one who had the baby?"

"Oh, she's fine." Penny nodded. "Her and the baby."

"What did she have?"

"A girl."

"Oh great. Do they have a name for her?"

"Rebecca, I think." They got the hospital room. "She's in there. I'll give you two some privacy. Better go check on Cathy anyway."

Penny walked away and Mort walked inside. He saw Dylan lying in the bed with her eyes closed. When she heard him walk in, she opened her eyes groggily.

"Mort?"

Mort walked over and stroked her hair back. "Hey. How are you feeling?"

"I'm…" She didn't say anymore.

Mort frowned. "Dylan?"

"Sorry, can't think of a word."

Mort smiled. "You're high, aren't you?"

"Hmmm, these drugs are fantastic."

"What happened?" Mort asked. "When I spoke to you on the phone, you seemed fine. Well, sick but not…Ruptured appendix sick."

"I thought it was just a bug or something but then I was in so much pain, the doctors got involved and before I know it, I'm getting wheeled into surgery."

"I wish I had been here."

"Oh no, you're fine." Dylan said. "How could you have known? Although, now I can't protect you from my family anymore."

Mort smiled. "I met your sister actually."

"Oh God, which one?"

"Penny?"

"Oh. Could have been worse."

"My books are full of shock value tactics?" He smirked.

Dylan closed her eyes. "Oh. Maybe not." She looked at him. "I judged books by their covers. Sorry. I know it's wrong."

"It's okay." Mort smiled. "She quickly covered for you."

"I won't hit her so hard if that's the case."

"Just focus on getting better first."

A new voice assaulted Mort's ear.

"I couldn't agree more."

Mort froze and Dylan saw his face drop at the Southern accent.

_How is he here?_

"Mort?" Dylan frowned. "Are you alright?"

"Should I come back later?" The Southern voice asked.

Mort turned quickly and saw a doctor standing there. His entire body relaxed.

"No, I'm fine." Mort said. "Sorry."

The doctor nodded and walked further into the room. "It's good to see you're up and talking, Miss Saunders."

"Just about." Dylan nodded. "When can I leave?"

"Well, your appendix actually ruptured so we're going to keep you in for a few days to make sure you don't get an infection." The doctor explained.

"What's a few days?" She asked.

"About four."

"Four?" Dylan repeated. "But I thought these surgeries were fine. In and out in a day."

"If it had been a laparoscopy, then that's true but we actually had to open you up. You need to rest. Don't worry, you won't be lonely." The doctor smirked. "Your sisters have been running around with no signs of leaving."

"Sounds about right."

"And you're already getting visitors." The doctor said, turning towards Mort.

"Mort Rainey." Mort said, introducing himself to the doctor.

"The author?"

Mort nodded.

"Quite the fan."

"Thank you."

"Well, everything went fine and I don't think there's much reason to worry. It's just a precaution. So I'll leave you to it and I'll come check on you later." The doctor said to Dylan and left the room.

Dylan looked at Mort. "What was that? When he walked in?"

"I…What do you mean?"

"I mean, you looked completely terrified."

Mort shook his head. "Sorry, I was just thrown off guard."

"By the doctor?"

"I guess I'm still a little shaky around booming Southern accents. Shooter has left that effect on me."

"But…He's gone, isn't he?"

Mort nodded. "All gone. His memory shall live on but I'm trying to work on getting rid of that too."

"Good. You won, Mort. You stuck to your guns and proved that he couldn't scare you. That's what got rid of him."

"Wow," Mort smiled. "You must be really high on those drugs."

"They are quite lovely." Dylan sighed. "Four days stuck in here."

"I'll have you back home in no time, I promise."

Dylan frowned at him. "Oh Mort, it's one thing to let me stay when I can at least cook and help around the cabin but I can't ask you to take care of me while I lie in bed all day."

Mort frowned. "Why not?"

"Eh…Guilt?"

Mort kissed her. "You're coming home with me, woman, if I have to kidnap you out of here."

Dylan smiled. "Okay, Mister Rainey. No need to do the bad John Wayne impression."

"Bad?"

* * *

"You do realise I don't believe in any of this, don't you?"

Dylan smiled. "Neither do I but my mom taught me and I'm bored."

Mort sighed. "Fine. Go on. It feels nice if nothing else."

Dylan chuckled and kept running her finger over his palm. It was a good while later and Mort had ended up on the bed with Dylan who was now reading his palm.

"This means you're going to have a long life…Or a short one, I can't remember."

"You know what? That's the one I'd like you to be certain of."

Dylan smirked. "I though you didn't believe in all this?"

"I don't but still, better safe than sorry."

"We'll say long. Very, very long. Oldest man in the world long."

"Now I feel a lot better."

Dylan smiled and stopped her little fortune telling but kept hold of his hand. "There used to be blue murder with my mother when we were all living at home. She's very…superstitious."

"Yeah, I used to get that with…"

Mort stopped, realising who he was bringing up.

Dylan looked up at him. "Mort, you can talk about her, you know. I know our introduction wasn't the best and she did fuck you over but the woman was a part of most of your adult life. It's only natural you have a few stories where she's involved."

Mort nodded. "I know, you're right."

"So," Dylan prodded, trying to be mature about his harpy of an ex-wife. "Amy was superstitious?"

"Unbelievably. She thought she got feelings."

"As in a sixth sense?"

"To this day, I'm convinced she was just talking about déjà vu."

Dylan laughed. "Oh, believe me, I've been there. Feelings, visions, auras, talismans, bad juju, dream catchers, herbs, palm reading, tarot cards, furniture pointing a certain way…"

Mort smiled. "Dylan?"

Dylan came out of her little rant. "Sorry, just…Very frustrating to grow up with when you don't believe in any of it. I mean, I can see the attraction in wanting to believe in all the stuff but it's not for me. Nature is beautiful and all but I don't want to go out and live in it so I can be better connected to the earth. I'm connected just fine."

Mort nodded. "I get that. Amy wasn't that…dedicated but yeah, she could drive me crazy. Even horoscopes…"

They were interrupted when the door opened and Penny poked her head in.

"Hey, can I come in?"

"Just so I can strangle you." Dylan replied.

Penny looked at Mort. "You told her?"

"She got it out of me."

Dylan looked over Penny who had obviously gone home for a while. "Are you going out?"

"Have a date."

"With the guy from last night?"

"Nope, new one."

"Charming."

"I just came back to see if anyone dropped in to see you."

Dylan frowned. "Actually, no. I just thought everyone was with Cathy."

"Ah," Penny smiled. "Now you can't kill me because you see, I told everyone to leave you alone because I knew he'd be here." She said, pointing to Mort. "You're welcome, you just avoided a stampede of horror. Although, now I know you didn't have my back, maybe I should have let them rip you apart."

"Thank you." Mort said. "And I'm sorry. Your sister is very good at getting information."

"Okay, go." Dylan cut in. "Have a good time."

"I will. And you, have a…well, hospitals are no fun so just don't overdose on morphine."

"Thanks, Penny." Dylan said sarcastically. "Leave."

Penny walked out of the hospital room and Dylan looked up at Mort.

"You can go home too, you know. She's right, hospitals are no fun. Anyway, visiting hours are probably almost over."

"I can stay a little longer."

"What about Chico?"

"Ah yes, Chico…"

Dylan smiled. "Go home. I'll see you tomorrow."

Mort kissed her. "I'll see you tomorrow. Love you."

"Love you too."

* * *

Mort opened the door to the cabin and switched the lights on.

He walked into the kitchen to see Chico's food and water bowls untouched. They were still filled to the brim. He frowned and looked around.

"Chico, come here boy."

Mort looked all over the cabin but there was no sign.

"Chico!"

He looked around outside but there was still no sign of the dog.

_Where's my dog?_

* * *

Dylan was reading a magazine that one of her sisters had brought her when Mort came by the hospital the next day.

"Hey. I didn't think you'd be coming by, it's so la…" She stopped when she looked up and saw how exhausted he looked. "Are you alright?"

Mort nodded. "Fine. How are you feeling?"

"Mort, why do you look like the one who's just after surgery?" Dylan asked, worried by his demeanour.

"I'm fine. Honestly. Just didn't sleep last night."

"Did something happen?"

"No." He said, trying not to worry her. He hadn't found Chico yet and that wasn't a comforting notion. "Guess I'm just used to having you next to me."

Dylan looked at him suspiciously.

"Seriously, I'm good. How are you?"

Dylan sighed. "I'm fine. Just bored. You're sure you're alright?"

"Dylan, it's you we're supposed to be focusing on, remember?"

"It's just…"

"Focusing on you."

* * *

"Well?"

"He wasn't there." Ted said, putting the dog down. "I'll go back up there later tonight."

Amy huffed. "He is my dog."

"No, Amy! He was your dog! He belongs to Mort now! You had no right to take him. If you won't take him back, I will."

"Ted…"

"What is going on with you?" Ted asked. "Look, I'm not the guy's biggest fan but you cannot steal his dog. What were you even doing up there in the first place?"

"I went to give him his grandfather's old watch. It was recovered in the fire."

"And the insurance company couldn't have handled getting it back to him?"

"Ted…"

Ted shook his head. "I don't know what you're doing Amy but if things keep going like this, I'm not going to want to. I love you but you need to realise that you're divorced now. You don't need to keep that guy in your life just like he doesn't need you in his."

Ted walked into the bedroom and closed the door behind him.

Amy sighed and got up, going over to where Chico was standing by the door. She picked him up and walked over to the couch, cuddling the dog.

"You still need me, Chico, don't you?"

Amy looked at the bedroom before looking down at the dog.

"You still need me…"

* * *

**Thanks for reading. Please Review.**


	16. Chico

**To lori: Hopefully she will soon! I can safely say Wes is out of the picture so no need to worry about him anymore! At least that's positive =P Thanks!**

**Here's Chapter 16!**

Mort walked through the hospital to get to Dylan's room. He was finally taking her home today which was great but he still hadn't found Chico which was the opposite. He walked into her room and got quite the scare.

He sighed, realising. "Your niece, it's your niece."

Dylan smiled. "You get a fright, Mister Rainey? Don't worry; I have no secrets this big." She said as she looked down at the baby in her hands. "This is my new niece, Becky. Well, Rebecca but…"

Mort walked over and looked down at the newborn. "She's beautiful."

Dylan nodded. "Of course she is. She comes from good stock."

Mort chuckled. "Very good stock. A little big egoed apparently but…"

"Hey." Dylan said, slapping his arm playfully. "Careful, Rainey."

"Don't worry; I have no plans to get on the wrong side of that family."

"Good, there's a lot of us."

"That's not why." He replied and when she looked up at him, he kissed her lightly. Dylan smiled up at him before looking back down at the baby. She was already dressed and ready to go Mort noticed before looking around the room. He frowned when he saw the furniture, save the bed, were all moved into different places. "What happened here?"

Dylan sighed. "Feng Shui."

"Ah, so your mother has been to see you?"

"Came by after you left yesterday."

The door opened and Cathy walked in. "Sorry about that but good news. You're not the only one going home." She looked over at Mort. "Oh, hi. I'm Cathy, Dylan's sister."

"Mort Rainey." He said as they shook hands.

"I've heard a lot about you." Cathy said.

"Oh, really?"

"No, nothing." She looked down at Dylan. "Secretive isn't the word."

"Read his author's biography."

"How impersonal."

"Exactly."

"She's a sweetheart." Cathy said to Mort sarcastically. "So much so, I'm taking my new baby away."

She took the newborn into her hands. "Nice to meet you." She said to Mort before leaving the room.

"You too." Mort said as she left before looking down at Dylan. "Well, that's two out of six."

"Slowly but steadily making your way through." Dylan nodded. "But I think you mean seven."

Mort frowned.

"My brother Darren." Dylan said. "He hasn't been around. He's off being a naval officer."

"That's right." Mort nodded. "I remember feeling sorry for him having to grow up in a house with seven sisters."

"So," Dylan asked. "Can we go now?"

Mort smiled. "Come on."

Dylan got up as Mort took her bag in one hand and her hand in the other as they left the room.

"So tell me, what have I been missing in the real world?" Dylan asked as they walked.

Mort shrugged. "You're asking the wrong person. I've just been writing and lounging around."

_And looking for my lost dog._

Dylan smiled. "Sounds blissfully boring."

"I thought the problem with being in the hospital was that it was boring?"

"Yeah but not my kind of boring. The kind where I can go outside and take pictures and…"

"Oh no." Mort said, shaking his head. "I'm not an idiot."

"But you're too pretty not to be."

Mort smirked down at her. "I heard your doctor say 'bed rest'."

"I've just had four days of…Aw man."

"Oh yeah, pretty and smart."

"Hmm, it's a gift and a curse to be your girlfriend. On the bright side I get to look at you with your cute glasses and messy hair stuffed under that hat," She said, ruffling his black beanie. "But then you get all…appropriate."

"Oh believe me; having you out of the bed for the last few days, my thoughts are anything but appropriate."

Dylan smirked. "Oh, bringing a whole new meaning to the term bed rest, are we?"

Mort kissed the side of her head. "Well not right away but after a few days, hopefully, if you're up to it."

"I've been lying in bed for days, Mister Rainey; you're not the only one with inappropriate thoughts."

"Always a lady."

* * *

"Welcome home."

Dylan smiled as she walked into the cabin. "Feels very good."

She went and sat on the couch and closed her eyes.

"Someone's lost a lot of steam." Mort smirked with a raised eyebrow.

"I'm just out of hospital, so sue me."

Mort smiled, shaking his head and going to the kitchen.

He froze when he heard Dylan clicking. "Chico?" When the dog didn't appear, she called him again but there was still no reply. "Mort?"

Mort came back out. "Yeah?"

"Where's Chico?" Dylan frowned.

"Em…Why?"

This confused her. "Well, I figured I wouldn't feel as lazy if he was curled up at my feet, being lazy too. So…Where is he?"

Mort sighed, walking over to the couch and sitting on it. "I don't know."

"What?"

"I came back here when I went to see you in the hospital that first day and he was gone. I've been looking for him and putting up lost signs but nothing so far."

"But…I've been asking you how he is and stuff and you only said fine. Why didn't you tell me?" Dylan asked.

"I didn't want to stress you out any more than you already were."

"Oh Mort," Dylan grabbed his arm and brought him to rest his head on her chest. "I'm so sorry. We can go look for him now if you want."

Mort shook his head. "I literally don't know where else to look. I've tried everywhere. I've even got onto Dave Newsome about it in case anyone finds him. He has my number on his collar too. I'm very close to giving up."

"No, don't say that. I can't believe Chico would run away."

"I know." Mort said. "I mean, he's always coming in and out but he always comes back."

"What if…Maybe…"

Mort frowned. "Dylan?"

"I think Chico isn't the type of arthritic, old, half-blind dog that runs away."

"You think someone took him?"

"I just…Chico is old and tired. And you haven't heard from Shooter in a while."

Mort sat up. "Shooter."

"But I'm just letting my mind run away with me." Dylan said quickly. "I could be completely wrong."

"No, it makes sense. He disappears for a while, lets me leave my guard down and then does something like this."

"Maybe you should get back onto your detective friend again?" Dylan suggested. "If Shooter is showing up again, you may need him."

Mort nodded and got up, going to get Ken's card before returning to the couch and dialling.

"Ken Karsch."

"Ken, it's Mort."

"Mort? I have a feeling this ain't a social call."

"You'd be right about that. I think Shooter might be making an appearance again."

"Have you seen him?"

"Not exactly."

"Then why would you…?"

"My dog went missing."

There was silence on the other end of the line for a few seconds. "Your dog?"

"It may sound a little ridiculous to you but I've always pegged you as a cat person anyway."

"You're clearly devastated over this occurrence."

"Sorry." Mort said. "But seriously, Chico is old and he sleeps most of the day. He wouldn't just run off because for one, he can't run…"

"I'm charging you starting now. I'm on my way up."

"Thanks."

Mort hung up the phone and looked at Dylan.

"So?"

"He's on his way."

* * *

"Was there anything unusual with him on the day he went missing?"

Mort thought back as he sat in the kitchen with Ken later on. "No. Dylan left to go see her sister who was having a baby; I stayed asleep until the morning, got up. Chico was fine. Still sleeping. I went to write and then…"

"Then?" Ken prodded.

"Amy came by."

"I thought you two were divorced?"

"We are. She was dropping by something that was salvaged from the wreckage."

"Don't insurance people take care of things like that?"

"I don't know, maybe?" Mort said. "Anyway, she came by and then I got the call from Dylan and I told her I didn't want to talk to her anymore."

"Who?"

"Amy." Mort said tiredly. "Obviously. You just met Dylan. The woman on the couch, remember?"

"Nice girl."

"Anyway! I finished my call with Dylan and went back to writing. Chico was still around on his chair over by the window up where I write. I was writing for, it must have been a half an hour at least and when I came downstairs, she was still outside, sitting in her car."

"She stayed outside? That long? Waiting for you?"

Mort noticed how suspicious Ken's voice had gotten. "I don't think she was waiting for me. Amy just gets a little…overdramatic about things."

"And this time it was about your divorce?"

"Yeah…and other things. She was being all melancholic about the cabin and plans we had and everything. Then Dylan's sister called me and told me I had to come to the hospital so I made her leave the cabin."

"She was back in the cabin?"

"She followed me in. Then when I was leaving, I dragged her out. I left and didn't think about it anymore. Chico was fine."

"You left before her?" Ken asked.

"What are you saying?"

"Nothing. Just trying to assess the situation."

"Do you think…She took Chico? Not Shooter?"

"I'm just thinking of the most likely scenario. The ex-wife gets jealous over the new girlfriend, starts missing the old days but the husband is moving on so the old wifey, being her overdramatic self, resorts to drastic measures. She takes something that brings back a bit of her old life. What did you say to Amy?"

Mort thought back, grimacing. "That I knew what she was up to, she was hoping she could go off with Ted and if that didn't work, I'd be waiting for her to come back, only that wasn't what was going to happen and I was with Dylan now."

"And then you left her alone on your property?"

"I had to get to the hospital. I didn't expect the woman to steal my dog. And anyway, this sounds much more like Shooter's territory than Amy. I mean, she may be acting a little weird lately but steal my dog? That's a little…insane. And illegal."

"She's making excuses to come up here."

"Why do I get the feeling that you don't take my claims about Shooter seriously?"

"I do. It's just…Mort, I was mapping this place out for weeks and I didn't see the man once. I think he went back to wherever he crawled out of the minute you mentioned that magazine. Also, if Shooter stole your dog, he would have wanted you to know it was him. He would have left you a message by now."

Mort thought about it before grabbing his phone off the coffee table.

"Any luck?" Dylan asked, looking up from her newspaper.

"Hopefully." He replied. He brought the phone to the kitchen and picked up the receiver before stilling his movements. "Damnit."

"What?" Ken asked.

"Well, the house number won't be of any use seeing as there is no longer a house and I've never be inclined to ask for Ted's number."

"Does she have a cell phone?"

"Not that I know of." Mort huffed. "Shit."

"Call the insurance company. I'm sure they'd have to have her current details and they wouldn't hesitate giving them to you seeing as since you two shared the house, you kind of need to be in touch."

Mort smirked. "I know I wasn't paying you for your looks."

He got up, going to get the card with the insurance company's number on it. When he found it, he returned to the kitchen table and dialled.

"NPD Insurance, Fran Evans speaking, how can I help you?"

"Miss Evans?" Mort said. "This is Mort Rainey."

"Mister Rainey, how can I help you?" She asked.

"I was just wondering if you could give me Ted Milner's number? I know my ex-wife is staying there and I never thought to get it and now I need to speak with her and…"

Ken made a hand motion across his neck, signalling for Mort to shut up and stop being awkward.

Mort did so.

"Oh, yeah sure, hold on a sec." Fran said on the other end.

While Mort was waiting, Ken got up.

"Where are you going?" Mort mouthed.

Ken pointed to out where Dylan was.

"No, you don't need…Yes, hello Fran…"

Ken walked out and over to Dylan.

"So, Mort tells me you're a photographer?"

Dylan looked up. "Oh, yeah. I just work for a few magazines, nothing huge."

Ken sat down. "So, how did you and Mort meet?"

"I came up here to do some work for one of those magazines."

"Did you know it was Mort Rainey, the author, who lived here?"

Dylan put the newspaper down, not really understanding his tone. "I did, actually. I was taking a few shots around the town and I asked the people who lived in the cabin next to the very photogenic lake. They told me and well, they were quite proud that they had a celebrity amongst them. Why do you ask?"

"I'm just wondering. It seems a little…coincidental, after all. Mort starts getting these mysterious visits from a stranger and not nice visits and at the same time, you show up. In less than six months, you're living with the guy."

Dylan smirked. "Like you said, a coincidence. And I'm not living here, I'm staying here." She showed him what she'd been looking at on the newspaper and he saw several parts of it circled in pen. "I'm actually looking for a new apartment."

"Oh, so you're only here for a while?"

"That's all."

"As long as Shooter needs, maybe? Needs an inside man, or in this case woman, you get close to Mort, get him smitten, and all of a sudden, Shooter has eyes and ears inside knowing when and when not to come by or when to conduct his evil little schemes. Then when everything's finished, you run off and end things with Mort?"

"Was my appendix rupturing my planning too? To give Shooter time to steal Chico?" Dylan sat up. "Mister Karsch, I appreciate you looking out for Mort, even if you're only doing it because he's paying you to, but you're wasting your time and his money by questioning me. Let's see, shall we? If I was working with Shooter, who we suspect burned down Mort's old house, why would I tell the cops that Mort was with me? Surely arson is something Shooter and I, since we're so close, would want to frame Mort, our target, with instead of me getting him off the hook by admitting that I was with him and putting Shooter, my very close buddy, into the position of the only suspect?"

"Well…"

"Or, if I was working with Shooter, why would I suggest to Mort to get you up here when I found out Chico was taken? Because guess what? That's what I did. Ask Mort."

"That was you?"

"And here's probably the biggest kicker in your little conspiracy, if I was truly working with Shooter, why isn't Mort dead? Think about it, no one's been up here but me and Mort and that would have been ample time for me and my good ol' chum to kill the man I love and bury him in the garden then disappear without a trace. But you see, Mort is alive and well and Shooter hasn't been around here since I showed up. So maybe, me being here is not why Shooter is always around and creating havoc, maybe me being here and thus, a witness is why Shooter left."

Dylan looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Is your interrogation over?"

Ken stood up. "Yes."

Back in the kitchen, Mort was still on the phone though desperately trying to get off. "Yeah, you know it's always hard but at least when the divorce finalises, we're free to move on. Although I completely understand why you would choose to keep the last name. Look, Miss Evans, Fran, I would really love to talk more but my girlfriend just got home from the hospital…Yes, we've been going out for a few months…Thanks, I'm glad I'm moving on to. Hope you do the same. I gotta go, bye." Mort put down the phone quickly. "Jesus." He hurried out to the living room. "What are you two talking about?"

"Mister Karsch here was just asking me about my job." Dylan said, looking up at Ken. "Isn't that right?"

"Right," Ken nodded. "Magazines. So do you get the news before everyone else? Like say, a well-known author who's getting divorced and has enough money to pay for private detectives, therefore making him well off and vulnerable so an easy target?"

"I'm not paying you for this." Mort said, not at all amused.

"Just watching out for my client." Ken said. "Don't want any gold-diggers hanging around."

Dylan kept smirking. "I'm going to get back to my house hunt. With my own money."

She looked back down at the paper as Ken turned to a glaring Mort. "Did you get Milner's number?"

Mort huffed. "Yeah."

Dylan looked back up, frowning. "Wait, Ted? You think he has something to do with this?"

"Well, since you were just ruled out as a suspect…" Ken said.

"Because I was in hospital?" She asked sarcastically with raised eyebrows.

Mort looked at Dylan. "We're thinking it could have been Amy who took Chico."

"Oh," She said. "Wow Mort, you have terrible taste in women according to your friend here."

"I'm going to go call." Mort said, going back to the kitchen.

Dylan got up to follow him out and so did Ken. Both of them went to take the seat at the kitchen table.

"Just had surgery." Dylan pointed out and Ken huffed, giving her the seat.

Mort gave both of them tired looks as he waited for an answer.

"Hello?"

"Ted?" Mort asked. "It's Mort. Is Amy there?"

"Mort, she's asleep. Is this about Chico?"

Mort's eyebrows shot up. "He's there?"

"Wait…Amy didn't tell you?"

He frowned. "What? No, she didn't. I've been going out of my mind for days, I thought he ran away!"

"Oh Mort, I…I'm sorry. Yeah, he's here."

"Why the hell do you have my dog?"

"Mort, I went up there to bring him back but you weren't there so I told Amy to call you. She told me she did and that you had business for a new book and would be gone for days so to bring him back next week. Mort, I thought you knew."

Mort huffed, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes. "Could you please put her on the phone?"

"I…Sure."

Mort waited and soon, Amy picked up the phone.

"Hello?"

"What the fuck did you think you were doing stealing my dog?"

"Mort…" Dylan said, trying to calm him down.

"Believe me, he needs this, all this shit she's putting him through." Ken said.

Dylan looked up at him as Amy cried her apologies into the phone at Mort. "I'm thinking about him. He gets too angry and she won't want to be near him, least of all to give the dog back."

"That dog is Mort's, she doesn't give it back and he can go to the police who will get a warrant to go in there and get the dog."

"Mort was recently investigated for burning the house they used to share together down. You want to the police to know that this divorce is getting uglier so they can use Mort as a suspect again?"

"Amy, you had no right to take my dog! Chico is my dog!" Mort said in his own conversation.

"I know that but you left him alone!"

"I was going to be gone for a few hours! He's been left alone longer, Amy. Don't act like you were thinking about anyone but yourself."

"Alright well I will bring Chico back tomorrow and we can forget about this whole thing!"

"You bet your ass you're bringing him back!"

"Mort, I am sorry…"

"Don't. Don't bother. Just…Bring the dog back and then leave. For good."

Mort slammed down the phone and Dylan and Ken frowned when he clicked his jaw.

"Have you ever seen him do that before?" Ken whispered.

Dylan shook her head before leaning into Mort, putting her hand on his leg. "Are you alright?"

"I don't know. I just don't know what's going on with her lately."

"Maybe she misses you."

Mort looked at her. "Please don't. Don't get insecure. I can't have you to worry about too."

Dylan was a little surprised. She took her hand away and got up. "Well, I'm going to go to bed. Long day and…I'm still…Night."

She left the room quickly and walked upstairs.

"Careful," Ken said. "You wouldn't want to lose her. She's a keeper."

Mort looked up at him, scandalised. "You were just out there, questioning her!"

"I know and I've come to the conclusion that she's a good woman to keep around."

"I already knew that!"

"Just looking out for my clients. Well, now that that's solved, I'm going to go." Ken said, going to the door. "I'll send you the bill."

"You didn't do anything! You came in here and questioned my girlfriend!"

"Yeah, at my going rate. I'll cut a few bucks off since you're a friend. See ya."

Ken left and Mort slammed his head against the table.

_What the hell is happening to my life?_

Mort sat there for another while, thinking of everything. He had an ex-wife who was clearly having some sort of second thoughts or breakdown or something after their divorce because _she _cheated on _him_, he had a mad man who he didn't know if he was gone or going to come back, his writer's block was coming back ever since he found that chapter he hadn't written on his laptop, he had a girlfriend upstairs who was just home from the hospital who he had just possibly insulted and definitely embarrassed after she tried to help him, he had a burnt down house with him being the prime suspect and only a shaky and untrue alibi keeping him out of prison and on top of all that, he couldn't smoke to relieve his stress.

_But there's something else you could do…_

Mort looked to the cabinet where a bottle of Jack Daniels was kept.

"No, I can't."

_Yes, you can. Just one drink. Just one to make you feel better and help with all this stress._

"No." Mort said, shaking his head. "It's never just one."

He placed his elbow on the table as he tapped his fingers against his jaw.

_You wouldn't have the bottle if you didn't plan on drinking it._

"When I drink, bad things happen…"

_You probably never would have gotten with Dylan if you weren't drunk. Is that a bad thing?_

"No, I would have. I liked her."

_But you were chicken shit. Being drunk gave you the balls to actually do something about it. So go on, one little drink._

Mort walked over to the cabinet and pulled the bottle out.

_Just one drink._

* * *

Dylan was in bed, asleep when Mort came into the bedroom. He sat on the side of the bed and shook her gently.

"Dylan? Wake up."

Dylan turned and opened her eyes groggily. "Mort? What time is it?"

"It's still night. There's just… Dylan, there's something I have to tell you."

Dylan frowned. "What is it?"

"It's not something you're going to like or…I necessarily want to tell you."

Dylan was getting worried now. "Well, just get it over with."

"Believe me, I'm trying."

"Mort, please just tell me."

Mort sighed. "Alright…The truth is…I may have had a small…drinking problem."

Dylan frowned. "What?"

"But it's in the past now." Mort said quickly. "Not anymore."

Dylan shook her head. "But you were drinking the night we got together."

"A minor relapse."

"But you seemed fine. Drunk but not violent or a problem…"

"I wasn't alone. I usually drank alone. A lot."

"You kept a bottle of Jack Daniels around the cabin. And it wasn't full, Mort. And there's still one downstairs. A new one."

"I just threw it down the sink. I'm not doing it anymore. I wanted to but I'm not going to."

"But you had it. You've had it around before."

"I had a few of those minor relapses during my divorce."

Dylan had to admit, the cabin was a bit of a wreck when she came up here first. And so was he. But she just thought he was going through a divorce so didn't care. In all fairness, Dylan could be a bit of a slob sometimes too. She'd never have put it down to a drinking problem but why not? A writer, on his own a lot, going through a divorce, it was practically a cliché that he'd be a heavy drinker. She also realised that he never really drank when they went to dinner. He'd always just said he wanted a clear head for writing the next day.

"So when you say it's a problem…"

"Remember when I told you I didn't plagiarise Shooter's book?"

"Oh Mort, please don't tell me that was a lie…"

"No, no it wasn't. But it has happened. Before." Mort admitted, ashamed.

"You plagiarised someone else's work?"

"I had to pay the guy off to keep quiet. It caused so much trouble and nearly ruined my career and it was all down to alcohol so I realised I needed to stop. I would lock myself away for days and…It wasn't healthy. I've stopped but after…I caught Amy and I came up here, alone, I just…I didn't see the harm. Everything was ruined anyway. But now I have you and I don't want to risk that for a bottle of whiskey so…I need to tell you this."

Dylan nodded. "Was that your only relapse? After your divorce?"

Mort was still for a second before shaking his head.

Dylan inhaled. "Okay, when else?"

"We lost a baby. It happened then too. It escalated then too."

"Escalated?"

Mort realised how that sounded. "I never hit Amy or anything."

"I never assumed you did."

"Oh. I just locked myself away again. I wasn't very helpful to her."

Dylan nodded. "I don't suppose anyone really knows what to do in those situations."

"I stopped again but the marriage was still struggling. Then I found out about the affair."

"And you started again?"

"These events were spread out. I'm talking as if it all happened in a week."

"It's just…Is slipping something you regularly do when something goes wrong?"

"No. Just certain, extreme cases. And not anymore."

"I'm only asking because…well Mort, that's not being over it. Problem drinking is still drinking. You drank after I left and we didn't even like each other then."

"But it was also the fire and Shooter and…Dylan, it won't happen again. I swear."

"I want to believe you, I do. Have you ever seen someone about this?"

"Like a doctor or rehab? No. It's not that bad."

"Mort, are you listening to this conversation?" Dylan asked, trying to be compassionate. "You're telling me you have a drinking problem and then you're saying it's not that bad. If it's not bad, it's not a problem. So which is it?"

"I don't know, I was too drunk to remember."

Dylan didn't smile at his pathetic attempt at a joke to feel less uncomfortable.

"If I hadn't gotten drunk, we probably wouldn't have gotten together."

"You can argue any case you want but under normal circumstances, do you put our relationship down to alcohol?"

Mort sighed. "No."

Dylan looked at him, seeing him dejected. "You know, I don't drink that much…"

"Rub it in, why don't you?"

"What I meant is, I wouldn't miss it."

Mort frowned.

"Here's the deal," Dylan said. "This area will become alcohol free along with the both of us. You won't drink and I won't drink. But Mort, if you have another relapse, you agree to talk to someone. Deal?"

"You're not running a mile?"

Dylan took his hand. "I'm not going anywhere."

"I can't ask you to do this…"

"You're not. I am ordering you to let me do this." She smiled.

Mort looked at her for a second before reaching over and kissing her. "I love you."

"I love you too. Now get into bed. We have a lot of doting over Chico to do tomorrow."

"And a lot of lost dog signs to take down but seeing as you're still on bed rest, I see that being my job."

Dylan smiled. "Come on, sleep."

* * *

A knock on the door the next morning had Dylan shooting up to get it before Mort came downstairs to answer it himself. She didn't know why she was desperate to do it, knowing Amy was on the other side. Maybe it was a territorial thing or maybe it was just to diffuse any situation that might erupt from Mort's anger and Amy's…craziness.

She opened the door and saw not Amy standing there holding Chico, but a man.

"You must be Ted."

Ted nodded. "You must be…I'm sorry, I didn't get your name."

"Dylan Saunders." She said, holding out a hand as they shook awkwardly. What was Dylan's stance supposed to be on Ted? On one hand, he screwed Mort over but on the other hand, he cleared the way for Dylan to come into Mort's life. So she couldn't really hate him.

"Is Mort here?" Ted asked.

"He's getting dressed." Dylan said. "I would ask you to come in but…"

"I get it; Mort may have a heart attack."

"Or throw a lamp at you."

"More likely." Ted held out Chico. "I suppose I can give you him though."

Dylan took Chico with a smile. "Thank you. Hey boy."

"Ted." Mort said, coming down the stairs. "I thought Amy was bringing him back?"

"I…She asked me to." Ted explained. "I think she was embarrassed."

"Embarrassed, ashamed, in contempt of the law, all apt descriptions." Mort replied.

"I am sorry, Mort." Ted said. "I really thought you knew."

He looked in to see Chico in Dylan's arms and Mort followed his gaze before looking back at him. "You better be looking at the dog."

Ted looked at Mort tiredly.

"Just saying, wouldn't be the first time."

"Seriously Mort, you're divorced, it's been months, we might not like each other but aren't we past this?"

"I thought so but your girlfriend stole my dog."

Dylan felt her stomach flop. Mort said 'your girlfriend', not 'my ex-wife'. That was very pleasant.

"I know and I'm sorry, she's sorry, we're both very sorry." Ted said.

Mort huffed. "Just…Tell her to stop coming up here. That way, everyone can move on."

Ted nodded. "I will. Bye. Nice to meet you." He said to Dylan.

"You too."

Mort closed the door as he left, turning back to Dylan. "Nice to meet him?"

"Yeah, him cheating with your wife let me come into the picture. I need to thank the man, not hate him."

Mort shook his head, walking over to the couch where Dylan was sitting, Chico still in her arms.

"Hey Chico." Mort said, taking the dog into his own hands. "I missed you, buddy."

Dylan smiled at him. "You're so sweet with that dog."

"Hey, before you came along, Chico was my only company. He may be old and useless at most times but he got me through a lot." He said, doting on the dog.

Dylan kissed his cheek. "You two deserve each other."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"That's because it was one."

* * *

**Aw, Mort, Dylan and Chico. One very happy and very dysfunctional little family!**

**Thanks for reading! Please Review!**


	17. Suspect

**To lori: Sorry for taking so long. I kind of hit a wall but everything's better now! This story is back on track! Thanks!**

**Here's Chapter 17!  
**

"I've got a question for you."

"Oh?" Dylan asked, looking up from her breakfast as Mort came back inside from getting his mail.

"Yeah, how does this work?" He asked, holding up his own envelopes. "How do you get mail if you don't have a residence?"

"Well, I have a residence; I just don't live in it." Dylan pointed out. "But I usually just get everything sent my office."

"You have an office?"

"Yeah. All my mail gets sent there. It's been closed for a while since I got sick and stuff but I'm hoping I can get back to work next week if the doctor gives the okay."

"I must see this office."

Dylan shrugged. "It's not anything impressive. It's just a loft. I actually lived there for a while but it got too cold."

Mort smiled. "Is there anywhere you haven't lived?"

"Em…let's see…Paris for a while, London, Australia…"

"You lived in Australia?"

"For a summer when I was a teenager. Well, I worked in Australia for a summer when I was a teenager."

"Worked?"

"Yeah…" Dylan said tentatively. "I've been working since I was sixteen."

"What about school?"

"Uh…I never went."

Mort noticed how Dylan was focusing a lot more on the table than him.

"You never went to school?" He frowned.

"I was home schooled." She explained. "And I hated it so I stopped and went out and started working."

"Home-schooling? What was that like?"

"Horrible. There were still classes and homework and stuff."

"But isn't school also about socialising and stuff? How did that work out?"

"Well, I wasn't the only person in the class. It was just like high school. Except I hated everyone there."

"Nope, still sounds like high school."

Dylan smiled. "Mort, what I'm trying to say is I was home-schooled with a lot of other kids."

"How is that at home?"

"Because I lived with a lot of other kids."

"Oh." Mort frowned. "Were you in foster care or something?"

"No. But you know what I've said about my parents, quite hippy and free-spirited and they lived with a lot of people like that…"

"Dylan, are you trying to tell me you grew up on a…compound?"

"Not a compound…Lots of compounds." Dylan sighed. "It's not anything bad. I didn't have some tortured upbringing. It was fun a lot of the time, like when I was young; there was always lots of other kids around to play with. But when I got older, I just realised it wasn't really my thing so I left and started making my own way. Believe me, if it was bad, I wouldn't still talk to my parents."

"But in those places, isn't it a case of all the adults sharing the responsibility of raising the kids?"

"Not all the time. Look, I had a happy childhood. Not perfect all the time, annoying a lot of the time but that's every childhood. My family still had their own house, I shared a bedroom with no one but my sisters, it was just I didn't go to a high school, everyone ate dinner together, there weren't any televisions, things like that. Yeah, there are way more strict ones like cults and stuff but that wasn't the case for me at all."

"So why did you leave? What made you decide it wasn't for you?"

"I felt locked in." She shrugged. "I didn't like it. So I left and went everywhere I could. Then I settled down when I met…when I got older."

"You don't have to tiptoe around him, you know." Mort said. "You've been great putting up with everything Amy's been doing; the least I could do is hear you talk about your ex."

Dylan smiled at him. "I don't keep quiet about him for you."

Mort nodded, understanding.

"Mort?"

"Hmmm?"

"I was actually wondering…I didn't know if I could ask you but seeing as you just said I shouldn't tiptoe around the issue…"

Mort frowned. "What?"

"Would you help me clean out the house? I haven't done it because frankly, I haven't been able to find the strength to but now…I think it's time."

"Well," Mort said. "Then I want to help you. As soon as you're feeling up to it, we can go over there and just clear everything out."

"Thank you. I know it's a crazy thing to ask…"

"Hey, the sooner that house gets sold, the sooner you can move on."

Dylan nodded. "I have been quite lackadaisical about trying to get it done but after a few weeks, when I realised that people were only interested in seeing the house that was on the news, it just became a bit too much to handle and I didn't involve myself too much in it anymore."

"Have you had any offers?"

"One or two but they were nowhere near the asking price. I'm just considering letting it go for anything now but if I do, I don't know if I'll be able to afford to get somewhere new that's liveable."

"Well, if you need…"

Dylan put a hand to stop him. "Don't even try. My sisters have offered a thousand times and I am not taking any money, not even loans. I am doing this on my own." Talking about her sisters made her remember something very important. Mort frowned when he heard her gasp.

"What is it?"

"Oh my God, I completely forgot to tell you." She said. "Mort, the police still have you marked as a suspect in the house fire."

"What?"

"How could I have been so stupid? My sister, the one whose husband is a cop, she told me. Apparently they want to question me some more."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I meant to! But then getting sick and everything, I just…I completely forgot about it. Mort, I'm sorry."

"What am I going to do?"

"Nothing."

Mort frowned at her. "What do you mean 'nothing'?"

"Mort, I'm not supposed to know this, Jen wasn't supposed to know this and I have a feeling the only reason the cops haven't been to see me yet is because Danny is covering my back. You can't do anything or else the police will know that we knew already. We're supposed to be thinking this is all over, remember?"

"But…They're still looking into me!"

"You have nothing to hide, remember?"

"Dylan, you lied for me. You said you were with me when you weren't."

"And I'll say it again. Who is going to deny it? It's just me and you that know, remember?"

Mort nodded. "Yeah, okay…"

"Besides, I was with you for a while. You were at my motel, remember?"

Mort froze. "The motel manager."

"What?"

"The motel manager! He saw us. He saw me drive off after acting insane and you going back to your room. I stole his keys!"

Dylan put her head in her hands for a second in defeat before looking back up again. "We'll fix it."

"What? How?"

"I don't know but we will. We will fix it and they will stop looking into you like they rightfully should and start looking for the real person who did this, be it Shooter or someone else, and we will move on with our lives. We just have one kink stopping that from happening."

"That kink is a man who is going to get me arrested if they question him."

"You really need to start being a glass half full kind of fella if you're going to keep getting into these kinds of situations."

* * *

Amy was sitting and reading a magazine when she heard a knock on her door. She got up and answered it, very surprised by who was on the other side.

"What are you doing here?"

"I came to talk to you." Dylan said. "Can I come in?"

Amy considered it for a second before standing aside, letting her walk into Ted's apartment.

"How did you know where Ted lived?"

"I called your insurance agency, pretending to be Mort's assistant." Dylan admitted.

"Sneaky."

"I can be." She nodded. "Is there somewhere we can talk that isn't the hall?"

Amy led Dylan to the living room and they sat down across from each other.

"So why are you here?" Amy asked.

Dylan sighed. "They're looking at Mort in relation to your house fire."

Amy frowned. "What?"

"Yeah. They think it was him. I think you and I both know he could never do something like that."

"Because you've known him so long?" Amy asked sarcastically.

"Because I love him." Dylan said. "The same way you still do."

"No, I…I don't. I love Ted." She stammered.

"Amy, don't lie to me. I see it when you look at him, I hear it when you talk to him and I feel it when you steal his dog."

"Chico is my…"

"I'm not here to talk about Chico. I'm here to talk about Mort and this ridiculous suspicion against him."

"You want to talk about Mort? What do you know about Mort? You think you crawl into some guy's bed when he's feeling lonely and on the rebound and all of a sudden, you know all of his deepest, darkest secrets? I was with Mort for years! I know him better than anyone! I know all of his…"

"I know about his drinking problem. He told me." Dylan said, shutting Amy up since she knew that was exactly what Amy was talking about. "And I know he plagiarised one of his stories, he told me that too. And I'm still in his life. I'm trying to help him, with the drinking and the reclusiveness and this too."

"It's so nice to see that you found a project in your spare time."

"Amy, I did not come here to get into a fight with you. I came here to plead with you. You know Mort didn't set that fire. You know he never could."

"What do you want me to do about it?" Amy asked. "Why don't you do something?"

"I have! I told the police Mort was with me."

"Was he really?"

"Yes."

"You're lying."

Dylan frowned. "Excuse me?"

"You're a terrible liar." Amy said. "You lied to the police for him?"

"I didn't lie." Both women knew she was lying right now but Dylan couldn't admit it. As long as she kept saying she was with Mort, he was safe, no matter who believed it. They had to prove otherwise. "I was with Mort. He stopped by my motel room, we talked and then he left and I didn't like the way we left things so I drove to his cabin where I was with him all night."

"So if that's your story and you're sticking to it, why come to me and ask me for help?"

"Because the police don't believe me for some reason."

"Because you're a terrible liar."

"Amy, please."

Amy shrugged. "I don't know who did do it. The fire was started by a bottle bomb so someone had to have done it."

"Just…Isn't there anyone you could think of? Anyone at all who might have something against you?"

Dylan couldn't believe Amy didn't piss a lot more people off. She was an expert at it to Dylan.

"Where do you work?" Dylan asked.

"At a bank." Amy frowned.

"Someone you turned down for a loan, a house you repossessed and this is revenge, anything." Dylan implored her to think. "Ted too. Anyone he can think of. Who isn't Mort."

They heard the front door open and Ted walked in. "Amy?"

Dylan sighed and stood up. "Please, just think."

She left and went to the front door where Ted frowned at her. "Hello, again."

"Hey. Don't worry, I was just leaving." Dylan turned back to Amy. "Please." She turned and left the apartment.

Ted turned back to Amy. "What was that about?"

Amy didn't look at him as she shook her head. "Nothing."

"Amy?"

Amy grabbed her jacket and keys. "I've got to go."

"Where are you going?"

Amy left the apartment without a word.

* * *

"Mort?"

Mort looked over at Dylan quickly as she came back up the stairs and caught him smoking by the open window. "Hey…you."

"I didn't know you smoked." Dylan said, walking over and sitting down across from him.

"I didn't even hear you come back!" He said, at a loss.

"That doesn't change the fact that you're smoking." She frowned.

"I'm not." Mort said quickly. "I mean…I was, but not anymore."

Dylan raised her eyebrows as she looked at the cigarette in his hand.

"Oh, this? I just…One every so often isn't too bad."

"Mort, you don't have to hide out when you smoke."

"You don't mind?" Mort asked. "Would you mind if I…did it full time again?"

"Yeah, kinda." Dylan nodded.

"Oh…"

"Because that would make me start up again too and it was a bitch to quit last time."

Mort was surprised. "You smoke?"

"Smoked. Past tense. But I'm weak and it is all around me…" She said, taking the cigarette out of his hand and into her own.

Mort chuckled, shaking his head and she took a drag. "That's…How about we just start up again? It'll be like helping each other quit except a lot more enjoyable."

Dylan smiled. "Don't tempt me, Rainey. Well, any more than you already have." She said, holding up the cigarette. "I gave up because I didn't want to die; I'm not starting again because of peer pressure."

"Is that why you started the first time?"

"No but I did cause a lot of my friends to start that way. I was a bit of an awful human being."

"Amy made me give up. Damn health Nazi."

Dylan sighed. "Okay, occasional smokers. Very occasional."

"Barely classified as smoking."

"Less lung pollution than going to the city the little amount of smoking going on in this cabin."

"I can live with that."

Dylan smiled and got up. "Come on; let's go downstairs before we actually start to think that's a good idea."

Mort stood up too and followed her down. "It was just…stress."

"I get it."

Mort sat on the couch as Dylan went to the kitchen.

"You see, this would be one of those times where I'd crack open a bottle of Jack Daniels."

Dylan came back and handed him a packet of Doritos. "This will have to do." Mort clutched the bag and Dylan could see how vulnerable he looked. It would be adorable if the circumstances were different. "Mort, they're not going to arrest you."

"You don't know that. My luck has been quite shitty this past year."

"You know how to make a girl feel special."

Mort looked up at her from the couch. "With one exception."

"Thank you." Dylan looked around the cabin. "Did you ever think of getting a TV up here? It might take your mind off things every once in a while."

"Thinking about it more and more lately, if only to catch the news. 'Writer Mort Rainey, still at large'." He looked up at her again. "I'll be hiding under the couch, just so you know."

Dylan sighed and sat down next to him. "Mort, did you set the fire?"

"What? Of course not!"

"Exactly! So stop acting like you did!"

"I'm just freaking out. Shooter has been missing for a while. Maybe this was his plan all along?"

"It's a pretty shoddy plan."

Not from where I'm standing. In the firing line."

He lay back on the couch and Dylan lay down back too, her head resting on his chest.

"It's going to be okay."

"How do you know that?" Mort asked.

"I don't. It's just…After the year we've each had, there has to be some good karma coming our way."

Mort stroked her arm. "Let's hope."

It wasn't long before the two were asleep; the first bit of comfort and peace Mort got all day.

* * *

"Anyone see anything?"

"Nothing the place is deserted."

Sheriff Newsome sighed. "It's sights like this that make me consider retiring."

He looked at the murdered motel manager, blood all over the walls behind him from the gunshot to the head. The cash register still had all its money.

"Robbery gone wrong?" A police officer suggested. "They shot him, panicked and ran?"

"No, if they would go far enough to murder, they were taking the money." Newsome surmised. "This, this was something else."

It was a mystery.

Who would want this man dead?

* * *

**Oh no. Is Shooter coming back?**

**Thanks for reading! Please Review!**


	18. Digging Up The Past

**To lori: Well, if Dylan speaks up again, they might not but would she be willing to? Thanks!**

**Here's Chapter 18!**

"Are you ready?"

Dylan looked at Mort. "No."

He took her hand. "Come on."

He walked her up to her old house. It felt weird for Mort too, not just because he was going into the house she shared with her ex but because it reminded him of his old house that was now gone. He wouldn't have been able to return to it anyway but it was the thought that he used to have a home which was no longer his whereas Dylan had a house that was hers but she couldn't go back into it either.

Dylan put the key in the lock and opened the front door. "Do you want to go first?"

Mort walked in and looked around her former home. "Wow, you were…normal."

Dylan walked in behind him with a sigh. "I tried to be anyway. I don't know if I succeeded." She looked around the house with a grimace. "This place is so dusty."

"Dusty?" Mort asked with a raised eyebrow. "If that's a problem, I don't want to know what you thought when you first saw the cabin."

"It's not that, it's just…I loved this house. It's a shame that it's become so empty and unused."

Mort had been too focused on a photo on a shelf of her and her ex smiling to hear her. They were obviously at some social event as her then blonde hair was styled very nicely and she was wearing a strapless dress, obviously something she wouldn't be rushing to do anymore since the man in the same picture has left the scar that now marred her skin.

"Mort?" Dylan frowned, walking over to him. He turned to her but she saw that he had been looking at the photo. "I told them to get rid of all the pictures."

"Real estate agents keep them up for open houses." Mort explained. "Gives the place more of a homey feel that buyers look for."

Dylan noticed how short Mort seemed. She took the frame and placed it downwards. "Yeah well, it's my home and I don't want any reminders around."

Mort looked down at her and realised that he probably wasn't the one who should have been uncomfortable at the sight of Dylan and her ex. "I'm going to go get the boxes from the car."

Dylan nodded and Mort left to go back outside. It was so weird to think of Dylan in this setting and not his own where he knew her best. Now he was going to get to know the Dylan she used to be. The Dylan who was settled down and was going to get married. A big part of their relationship was not having to focus on the past, though his end of that was incredibly hard to maintain with Amy lately, and now he was going to delve into hers.

_Maybe I'm lucky mine burned down._

_Can't say that out loud. They still think I did it._

He walked back inside but didn't see her anywhere.

"Dylan?"

"I'm in the kitchen."

Mort followed her voice and followed her into the big kitchen.

"I used to love being in here." She said. "I could spend hours cooking and baking and mixing things, even if they turned out awful."

"You're sure you can't stay here again?" Mort asked. "Live here?"

Dylan shook her head. "No. Because now all I think of when I'm in here is…" Mort could see her getting more upset so he walked over and took her into his arms. He remembered that the attack took place in the kitchen.

"Why did you come in here?" He asked.

"I figured I was going to have to eventually so I might as well just get it over with. But maybe I'm not ready for this at all?"

"I think you are but if you want to go…"

Dylan looked at him. "You do?"

"Hey, you came here; you came inside, why wouldn't I? But if you want to go…"

"No." Dylan shook her head. "If I leave now, I'm just going to have to come back again later. No, you're right. I already did the hard part."

Mort wanted to point out that the hard part was going to be sorting through her old life but he stayed silent.

"So," Dylan said. "Let's get this over with."

* * *

"What do we do with…his stuff?" Mort asked as they cleared out the bedroom.

"Oh, I have a box over there for all his clothes and stuff. I'm just going to give them to charity."

"Are you allowed do that?"

Dylan shrugged. "He stabbed me; I can get rid of his clothes."

Mort didn't argue and instead, just tossed all the folded shirts from the drawers into the box she pointed out. Most of her clothes had been taken out already by her sisters months ago so their task was mainly getting rid of his stuff and sorting through the household stuff that Dylan wanted to keep or wanted to get rid of. Mort was surprised by how much she didn't want to keep, only a few things that meant something to her. There were twice as money boxes going to charities or the dump than there was going with her. He guessed she really didn't want any reminders around.

"I'm going to go and see if there's anything in the office worth keeping." Dylan said, getting up.

"Want me to come with you?"

"No, you're okay. Just…Keep getting rid of his clothes please."

"Sure."

Dylan smiled and left and Mort cleared out all the drawers. He found a few of her clothing so he just placed them on the bed, not knowing if she wanted to keep them or toss them. When he was done, he walked over to the closet and did the same. He found some shoeboxes stacked up in the corner so he took them out and placed them on the bed. Not knowing if the shoes inside belonged to Dylan or her ex, he began to go through them, tossing his and putting Dylan's by the pile of her clothes.

_I don't think I've ever been this organised._

He looked around at the room that looked like a bomb had it. Organised was not the word.

_Still, better than I ever managed._

He looked around for something else to do when he spotted another lone shoebox in the closet. He frowned as he noticed it had been put away from all the others, on the top shelf as opposed to the floor. He took it out and opened to see who they belonged to but Mort didn't find shoes. He found a load of sealed envelopes. Also inside was a black velvet little box. He put the envelopes on the bed and took out the black box, opening it. Inside was an engagement ring just like Mort had suspected. He rifled through the envelopes and saw the same handwriting on all of them and that they were dated months ago. He had a very good idea who they were from.

_He's sending her letters and she's keeping them?_

"Alright, the office…" Dylan stopped when she came back into the room and saw Mort looking over the letters. "What are you doing with those?"

"I could ask you the same question." Mort said, holding them up. "Why did you keep them?"

"What does it matter? I didn't open them."

"Of course it matters. You couldn't walk into this house, at least I thought you couldn't but you've been hiding his letters in a shoebox for months."

"No, I haven't been coming back here to hide them." Dylan said. "I just used to come back here with realtors and to get my mail until I notified the post office to the change of address and those letters were always there so I hid them away. Then they stopped coming here and started coming to my office."

Mort frowned. "Wait, your office? Dylan, is he still sending you letters?"

Dylan stayed silent.

"In the time we've been together," Mort went on. "Has he sent even just one letter?"

Dylan nodded.

"How many?"

"Not many." She said.

"How many?" Mort repeated.

"Six."

"Six? And you didn't tell me once? But they're not the only ones, are they? There were more there before I came along?"

Dylan nodded.

"Jesus, Dylan…"

"It used to be nearly every day!" She said. "But it's not anymore. It's not as bad as you think."

"Of course it is!" Mort said. "Your ex is sending you letters from prison and you're keeping them!"

"I told you he sent me letters!" Dylan argued. "I never lied. Even before we were together, I told you he sends me letters!"

"You never said you kept them in a box in your closet!"

Dylan huffed. "I didn't think to! I try not to think about them!"

"Then why not get rid of them?"

"I...I can't."

Mort huffed and walked out of the room.

"Mort!"

Mort ignored her and walked downstairs. He was about to leave the house when he heard the phone ring. He looked up at the stairs but Dylan didn't seem to be getting the phone. He walked into the next room and picked it up.

"Hello?"

"Well hello Mister Rainey, your house is mighty lonely without you around so much lately."

Mort dropped the phone onto the couch. How the hell did he know where Mort was? Or get Dylan's number? Why was he back? He hadn't been around for so long.

Mort slowly picked up the phone and put it to his ear.

"Mister Rainey? You don't seem too happy to hear from me."

Mort sat on the couch. "How did you get this number?"

"Oh now, Mister Rainey, I told you that messing with me was not a wise decision. I meant it when I said I would burn your life and everything in it. Now you seem to be getting quite cosy with this Miss Saunders there. You've gone and gotten her involved in our little spat."

"Listen to me, you hick. You stay the hell away from her, you hear me? I swear to God I will..."

"Mort?"

Mort turned when he saw Dylan come into the doorway leaning up against the doorframe. Mort's attention was taken when he heard the dial tone on the phone. Shooter hung up? Mort put the phone down and got up.

"Who was that?" Dylan asked.

"No one." Mort replied, not wanting to frighten her. "It doesn't matter."

Dylan looked into his eyes. "Don't leave. I know you were about to but...Don't."

Mort sighed. "Maybe it'd be best if I did."

"Mort, please." Dylan said. "Please just..."

Mort could see her getting more upset. He walked over to her and hugged her into him. "Okay, I'll stay."

"I'm sorry." Dylan said. "I just still get...unnerved, I suppose."

Mort nodded. "Of course. I just don't understand why you would keep those letters."

Dylan looked up at him. "He tried to kill me."

"Exactly."

Dylan sighed as she left his arms and walked over to the couch. "I didn't open any of them. All the envelopes are still sealed."

"I saw that. I still don't understand why..."

"He's in prison." Dylan said, turning to Mort. "I don't care what's in those letters. If there's an apology, I don't want to hear it. If there are threats, I definitely don't want to know them. I don't want to know whatever it is he wants to tell me. So I won't read those letters. I keep them closed. But I keep them because..." Dylan sighed. "He's in prison. He's behind bars and out of my life. He can't get to me and I'm not going to let him try to, even through letters but...But what if he got out? What if he gets out somehow and the police were looking for him? Then I'll need to know what he's thinking about me. I'll need to know if he's remorseful or still wants me dead. I keep those letters because if anything happens where he can get to me, I can let myself know what I'm in for."

Mort frowned. "You keep them because you're scared he might get out and find you?"

Dylan sagged. "I just...If it happens, I need to know what he's thinking."

Mort shook his head. "It won't happen. He's never getting near you again."

"You don't know that. It's not a life sentence; he's going to get out eventually."

"And he's not going to be allowed near you when he does. And he's not going to get near you because I'm still gonna be there."

"So you're not running out on me?" Dylan asked.

Mort kissed her. "I'm not going anywhere. And no one is getting near you."

_Not your ex._

_And definitely not Shooter._

* * *

"Who was that on the phone?"

"Hmm?" Mort asked, although he'd heard her perfectly. They had left the house and were now at a little pizza place, having an unhealthy and greasy but quite delicious dinner.

"You were on the phone when I came downstairs." Dylan reminded. "Just wondering…"

"It was no one." He lied. "Telemarketer."

Dylan frowned. "You called a telemarketer?"

"What? No, they called."

"I never heard the phone ring."

_Is he lying?_

_Oh come on, if he was lying, he could come up with a much better story than they called me and you're just going deaf._

Mort was confused himself. "You didn't?"

"No."

"That's…strange."

Dylan nodded, still not knowing how she wouldn't have heard it but she supposed it wasn't that big of a deal seeing as she was pretty frantic at the time, thinking her old relationship had just ruined her new one. That was definitely something she wasn't going to let happen.

"Actually, I was thinking..." She began.

"Hmmm?"

"If I'm healthy enough to clean out my old house and go back to work, maybe I'm healthy enough to…return to other strenuous activities…"

Mort smirked. "Oh? Well, I can't say I'm sorry to hear that. Although," He said, turning serious. "I do have to say I'm surprised hearing you going on about this after everything that happened today."

"Mort, I'm thinking about being with you because of everything that happened today. Me and you, that's all I want to focus on."

"So…We're getting out of here?"

Dylan laughed. "I'm obviously not the only one who's been having these thoughts lately."

"What can I say? You have that effect on me."

"Always good to hear. If…" Dylan stopped when her phone rang. "Hold on a minute."

She pulled her phone from her bag and Mort saw her frown at the number.

"What?"

"I just don't recognise this number."

He felt his stomach knot. Shooter? "Maybe you shouldn't answer it then."

"Hmmm, my curiosity is getting the better of me." Dylan replied. She flipped her phone open. "Hello?"

"Is this Dylan Saunders?"

"Uh…yes. Who's calling?"

"Miss Saunders, my name is Roger Bent; I'm calling from the Riverdale Police Department. We were hoping you could come in and answer a few questions in regards to your alibi for Mort Rainey."

Mort saw Dylan turn apprehensive. "Who is it?"

"Oh," Dylan said. "Of course. Anything to help. When…?"

"As soon as possible, if it wouldn't be too much trouble."

"Okay."

"Thank you, ma'am."

She hung up her phone and turned to an inquisitive looking Mort. "It was the police. They want me to come in and answer a few more questions."

"About the alibi?"

"Yeah." Dylan nodded. "What if they don't believe me?"

Mort felt guiltier making her lie now than he had before. "You don't have to do this."

"Of course I do. Not only for you anymore but if they find out I lied before, they can arrest me." Dylan pointed out. "I don't that to happen to either of us. I don't get it, what else could they possibly ask me? I told them the simplest story I could think of."

"Which was?"

"You came to my motel, left, I followed you and we spent the night together."

"You said I went to your motel?"

"Yeah, I tried to keep to the truth as much as possible. Why?"

"Now they're definitely going to ask that motel manager what happened and he's going to tell them you never followed me back."

"That guy couldn't have been following my every move. I'll just say I looked into the reception on my way out and he was asleep or something. I'm sure it's happened before."

"I don't want you to lie anymore."

"I don't want you to get arrested for arson." Dylan said. "Look, I'm just going to go over there now, get this out of the way and then hopefully, we never have to think about it again."

"Wait, you're going now?"

"They practically told me to." She sighed. "You should probably go back to the cabin. It won't seem too good if you're dropping me off."

"And how will you get back to the cabin?"

"I'll get a cab or something."

"No," Mort said. "Go to the police station and I'll…I'll wait."

"What do you think they're going to ask me?"

Mort shook his head. "I have no idea."

* * *

"What time did Mister Rainey stop by the motel?"

"Around eleven-thirty…I guess."

"You're not sure?"

"I was asleep." Dylan explained.

"How did he seem?"

"He was…" _Oh God, what do I say? _"He was upset with me."

"Why was that?" The officer asked.

"Mort had been having a lot of trouble with a man named John Shooter who had been harassing him over a book Mort had written. He was very threatening and it scared Mort. Mort thought I might have been working with Shooter because I had turned up at the cabin around the same time Shooter did."

"So Mister Rainey was angry? He wanted answers?"

"Yes." Dylan said. "He came in and asked about Shooter and I told him that I had nothing to do with it."

"Did he believe you?"

"Well, at first I didn't know what he was on about and then when I did, I got angry that he thought I could be involved with someone like that. I wasn't sure if he believed me when he left so I followed him back to his cabin. I didn't want him maybe going to the police and involving my name in Shooter's actions."

Dylan felt like her insides were disintegrating. She was such a terrible liar. She hoped it passed off as nerves or something."

"And then what happened?"

"I stayed at his cabin for the night."

"You spent the night with a man who had just burst into your motel room accusing you of being involved in harassing him?"

"It wasn't like that." Dylan replied. "We talked for a long time and just…got a lot of things out. The person you should be looking for is Shooter. John Shooter."

"Is it true that since that night, you've developed a relationship with Mort Rainey and are now living with him?"

"Yes, but…"

"So you'd want to protect him?"

"Not in the way you're suggesting."

"You know, if you wanted to change any of your story," The officer suggested. "To help us find the real culprit, we'd be willing to…turn a blind eye."

Dylan frowned. "Are you saying you're willing to cut me a deal? If I tell you it was Mort, I don't get arrested for perjury?"

"We're just interested in getting the truth, not throwing good people like yourself in prison."

"That's great but you should really focus on catching the real person who did this as opposed to keeping me cooped up here, trying to get me to lie so your case gets solved quicker." Dylan said. "Your deal would be very tempting if I wasn't telling the truth but I am."

_Damnit, I said that way too quickly. He definitely knows I'm lying._

"You said yourself Rainey was in an unforgiving mood."

"No, I never said that…"

"He thinks the new woman in his life conned him just like the old one. It all just comes flooding back to him how his ex-wife screwed him over so he takes a drive to Riverdale and decides to get a little revenge."

"No! That's not Mort. He wouldn't ever do something like that. The divorce did the complete opposite to him. He didn't get vengeful, he hid himself away. He didn't even want to come out of his house."

"Sounds like a guy ready to snap."

"Sounds like you have nothing else to go on so you're creating a situation that doesn't exist to suit yourself." Dylan fumed. "You may not like it but Mort isn't a suspect. I was with him."

The officer was silent for a second before nodding. "Then I guess that's all we need. You're free to go."

Dylan stood up and began to leave the station.

"Oh, and Miss Saunders?"

Dylan turned back. "What?"

"We planned to interview the manager of the motel you stayed at."

She tried desperately to refrain from looking worried at this. "You're going to do what you need to."

"No, we were. He was found dead last night. Shot in the head."

Now Dylan let her emotions show as she couldn't hold back the shock. "What?"

"Yeah. I'm sure we'll have reason and a suspect soon enough. Have a nice day."

He had hoped by letting Dylan in on this information might scare her into telling the truth but instead, it just scared her out of the police station.

_Yesterday. Mort was with me yesterday. That actually is true._

_Except when I was with Amy…_

* * *

"Dude, you really need to throw away that magazine. It's not doing you any favours. It's a magazine for women."

Ryan Callaghan didn't look up from the weathered copy of Supreme Magazine. He had spotted it on one of the desks belonging to a female prison guard and he had to take it and hide it away because on the cover was the woman he had been going to marry. Smiling up at him had been the woman who he had loved, the woman who had sent him to this hellhole.

He spent hours devouring every inch of her in every picture, remembering his old life. She had brown hair now. It was pretty. She had seemingly gotten her life back together. There wasn't a mention of him or what had happened anywhere in regards to her.

"Ryan? If you get caught with that, you're in huge trouble." His cellmate pointed out. "From the other guys and the guards. The guards realise you're ogling pictures of your ex, not to mention victim, that's definitely going to go against you."

He wasn't even listening.

"What is the big obsession anyway? Do you want to finish the job or do you want her back?"

Ryan didn't answer.

* * *

**Hmm, is Ryan regretful or is it something a lot less desirable?**

**Thanks for reading! Please Review!**


	19. Interrogation

**To LORI: You're welcome. :) Sorry I took so long again! Thanks!**

**Here's Chapter 19!**

Dylan stopped her car and got out, walking into the crowd of people who were eager to see the drama that surrounded their usually quiet little town.

"Isn't it awful?" A man standing next to her said as they surveyed the police's investigation behind the yellow tape. "I mean, what would possess a person to do something like that?"

Dylan shook her head. "I don't know."

_I really hope I don't._

"Do they know when it happened?" She asked.

"Yesterday some time."

"Yeah, but I mean, morning? Evening? Last night?"

The man frowned at her.

"I'm a journalist." She lied quickly. "Just trying to get the scoop."

"Well, there's the man you want to talk to." The man said, pointing to the sheriff who was approaching his car. "Sheriff Newsome."

Dylan pushed her way through the crowd to get to the man. "Sheriff?"

"Ma'am, this is a crime scene, you're going to have to leave."

"Wait, I have to ask," She said quickly. "Do you have any suspects?"

"We don't release that information to the public."

"It's just…I know him." Dylan said. "I was staying here not too long ago and…It's just a shock. A time of death, anything?"

"Miss, unless you are family, we cannot release any information."

Dylan huffed. She was stretching the truth as it was, she couldn't very well say she was his niece or something.

She went back to her car and got in, driving back to the cabin.

"Hey, where were you?" Mort asked when she walked in the door.

She didn't see the point in lying. He was going to find out eventually. "I was trying to talk to Sheriff Newsome."

Mort frowned. "About what?"

"The owner of the motel that we were so worried about? He's dead."

"What?"

"Yeah. Tuesday night, apparently."

"How?"

Dylan let out a sigh. "He was murdered."

Mort didn't seem to believe it, or else he couldn't. "Murdered? Someone murdered him?"

"Yeah, the police are all over the place."

Mort saw her demeanour. "Wait Dylan, you don't think I had anything to do with this, do you?"

"I wouldn't be here if I did…But you have to admit, it is strange. We remember he could be a problem for our alibi and that night, he's found murdered?"

"You were with me that night!"

"I know! I'm not saying you were involved! It's just…It's a scary coincidence."

Mort had to admit, it was a scary coincidence. But he didn't do it. The thought that Dylan might think he was involved was even scarier. "Dylan, I didn't do this. And I can prove it."

Dylan frowned. "How?"

"Today is Thursday. He was killed on Tuesday? The bane of my existence was here."

Dylan's eyes widened. "Mrs Garvey!"

"She'll let anyone know I was here the whole time. And…And also, when you were in your office, I was writing. Go to my computer and check the times of my saved work. You'll see I was here the whole time."

"I don't need to check, Mort. But the police will."

"The police? Why do the police need to…?"

"They're the ones who told me! When I went to answer their questions. They told me about the murder and if they told me, that means they're considering you."

"Well, they can check the same thing! I was here the entire time."

"What if it's not enough? I mean with the fire and now this…"

"I didn't set the fire either!"

"They think you did!"

Mort sat on the couch. "I can't believe this."

Dylan looked at the door when there was a knock before looking back at Mort. "It'll be fine. You have an alibi. A real one this time."

She went and answered the door and her eyes widened when she saw Sheriff Newsome there.

"Well, this is interesting." He said, seeing the same girl who was asking questions in Mort's house.

Mort heard the voice and stood up. "Sheriff, what can we do for you?"

"I assume you know about the recent tragedy that hit our town."

"Just heard about it." Mort said.

"I just told him." Dylan said. "He had no idea."

"Well, if that's the case, you shouldn't mind coming down to the station to answer a few questions."

Mort gulped. "Why?"

"Just to…clear a few things up."

"About what?" Dylan asked. "Mort had nothing to do with this."

"Then we're lucky he's not the only one coming. You too, Miss Saunders."

"What?"

"Yes, I didn't realise I could have picked you up a while ago. What a coincidence you were there."

"Wait, you want to question her too? Mort frowned, walking over to her. "That's insane. We were together."

"That excuse seems familiar. That's a problem. You see, we know about the few altercations you had at that motel, Mister Rainey, one including Miss Saunders right here. We've been working with the city police who told us that the one person they felt they could get a straight answer from about that night was now one of my own cases. Seems suspicious."

"Only if you twist it to be." Mort said.

"Look, if you two are innocent, then you both have nothing to worry about." Newsome shrugged. "And you'll have no problem coming to the station to answer a few questions."

Mort and Dylan couldn't argue.

* * *

"Look, you might not like that alibi but it's the truth."

"You and Miss Saunders were in your cabin alone?"

"No, we invited over the neighbours I don't have." Mort said sarcastically. "Yes, we were alone. We live together in that cabin, just the two of us."

"No one can verify this?"

"You could ask the dog but he's very quiet."

"I don't think you understand the potential trouble you're in, Mister Rainey. Making jokes won't get you anywhere."

Mort shut up.

"Now, what about that day? Were you together all then too?"

Mort sighed. "I told you. My cleaning lady was there. Call her. Go to my house, even and check my laptop for the times I was writing if you want. Every time you save a something, it saves the time too. That'll let you know I was at my computer all day."

"You're giving us permission to search your house?"

"Search away. You won't find anything."

* * *

"I don't know what else you want me to say. We got up, Mort and I had breakfast together, he went to write, I left to go to work, I came home and we spent the rest of the evening and night together."

"Why did you come by the scene today?" Newsome asked.

"Because I was telling the truth. I really did stay there and I really was shocked that the man was dead."

"You just had to know the time of death? And the suspects?"

Dylan huffed. "It's not unusual to want to know details. The police are trying to pin Mort with an arson charge, now murder? It's insane."

"Do you mind that Mister Rainey gave us permission to search his cabin? It has many of your possessions in it."

Search whatever you want. We have nothing to hide."

"Sheriff?" A young officer came into the room.

Newsome nodded and turned back to Dylan. "Excuse me."

He left the room and Dylan sat back in her chair. She was much more confident now than the previous times she'd been in police stations. Mainly because she wasn't a victim this time and she was telling nothing but the truth.

"Miss Saunders, we've learned something interesting." Newsome said, coming back into the room. "We just spoke to your assistant and she told us that you left for lunch that day. Came back late. You left something out of your story?"

Dylan sat up straight. "No. I just didn't think it was important."

She was a lot less confident now.

"Everything is important."

"If you must know…I went to see Mort's ex-wife."

"Is that so?"

"Yes."

"Any particular reason?"

"She's been hanging around Mort lately. I don't like it." Dylan lied. Why had her voice started giving her away again? She had been so good before.

"Oh, is that so?"

"Yes."

"So, if we call Mrs Rainey…"

"She's not Mrs Rainey anymore."

"If we call her and ask her if you were there, she'll confirm it?"

"I don't see why she wouldn't."

Newsome nodded. "Are you aware that the ex-Mrs Rainey came forward to police and told them she knew of a few other people who weren't too happy with her? A few others that could be considered suspects in the arson case?"

Dylan's eyes widened. "She did?"

"Yes, she did. She gave names and stories and your boy was put to the bottom of the suspect list, practically thrown off it because of that and your alibi."

"Well, good. She should have come forth sooner."

"Hmmm, it's all a bit coincidental."

"How? I just told you, Amy has been hanging around Mort and I tell her to back off and all of a sudden, she becomes the hero by clearing his name? Seems pretty straight forward to me."

"You think she's trying to get Mister Rainey back?"

"I don't know."

* * *

"Well Mister Rainey," Newsome walked into Mort's interrogation room a while later. It was a small station with not a lot of resources so Newsome usually had to deal with all the important stuff. Questioning murder suspects came under that category so he went to and from. Mort saw his laptop in Newsome's hand. "You're in luck."

"That dates and times check out? I told you they would." Mort said, feeling much better.

"They do. And we got a hold of Mrs Garvey. She was shocked that we could think a nice young man like yourself could ever be involved in something so heinous."

"I'll have to tip her extra next week."

"And according to your computer, you were home all day. Of course, you could have had your computer in the car with you."

Mort huffed. "I didn't. I was home. All day. Garvey said so."

"Yes she did."

"So I can leave?"

"For now."

Mort got up quickly. "Where's Dylan?"

"Oh Mister Rainey, I said you could leave. I never said anything about your girlfriend."

Mort frowned. "What? Why not? She didn't do anything."

"We'll be the judge of that."

"Well, I'm not leaving without her."

"If we charge her, you'll be here for a very long time."

"Charge her? How can you charge her?"

"There were a few hours left unaccounted for."

It was true. After a few attempts, Newsome had finally gotten through to Amy.

"Mrs Rainey, this is Sheriff Newsome from the Tashmore Police Service."

"Oh? How can I help you? Did something happen to Mort?"

"No, Mort is fine. I'm actually calling so you can verify something for me. Did a Dylan Saunders come by to see you on the 15th by any chance?"

Amy wasn't stupid. She had seen the news. She knew about the murder. Was Dylan involved? Were they questioning her? And she was around Mort? All alone up in that cabin?

"No, I never saw her that day."

"Thank you, Mrs Rainey."

"No problem."

Amy hung up the phone but didn't move. Had she done the right thing? By Mort?

If she saw Mort now, she wouldn't think so. He was furious. "Look, I know Dylan and she is not a murder. She doesn't even kill flies."

"Be that as it may, she lied about her whereabouts. To a police officer, that's suspicious behaviour."

"How did she lie? What the hell did she lie about?"

"Going to see your ex-wife."

Mort frowned. "What? Going to see Amy?"

"That's right. So we called your wife. Miss Saunders was never there."

Mort didn't understand. If Dylan was never there, why choose a lie like that when she had seven sisters to choose from? Or she could have said she'd gone to lunch or something? Why drag Amy into it?

Mort was out of the room and into the station now, his mind filled with questions when he saw Dylan being dragged out. "Dylan."

"Mort." She said frantically. "You have to believe me. This is wrong. This is all wrong. I didn't do this."

"You were with Amy?" Mort tried to walk with her as she was being dragged to the backroom where the holding cells were.

"Yes! I don't know why she's lying, Mort but she is! I was there! Ask her yourself!" Dylan's eyes widened. She only remembered now. "Ted! Ted was there! He saw me! He'll tell the truth! Ask Ted!"

She was dragged back to the cells and out of sight.

"You're charging her?" Mort asked. "You don't have enough to go on."

"We have motive, we have no alibi, we have perjury and we have her at the scene trying to see what we know." Newsome said.

"You have no murder weapon."

"Give us time. I'm sure we'll find it."

Mort left the station quickly and drove home to find Ted's address which was given to him when he asked the insurance company for his number. Once he found it, he left again and drove straight to Riverdale.

"Amy, open the door! I know you're in there!"

Ted opened the door to the shouting and banging. "Mort? What the hell is wrong with you? It's the middle of the night."

"Yeah and my girlfriend is stuck in some jail cell because your girlfriend is a liar."

"What?"

When Mort saw Amy standing behind Ted, he blew past the man to get to her. "Why did you lie?"

"Mort…"

"Why?"

"What is going on?" Ted asked.

Mort turned back to him. "Was Dylan here?"

"What?"

"A few days ago. Was she here?"

"I…Yeah, she came by to talk to Amy. When I came in, she left."

Mort turned to see a solemn looking Amy. "You are coming to the police station right now and you are telling the truth."

"It's the middle of the night. I'm not going anywhere."

"Police station?" Ted frowned. "Why would they…?"

"They're charging Dylan with murder because they don't believe she was here." Mort explained. "Because Amy told them she wasn't."

Ted looked at Amy. "What? Why would you do that? When did you do that?"

"They called a few hours ago. I…I must have got the dates mixed up."

"Bullshit, Amy." Mort said. "I don't know what your game is, why you seem intent to ruin my life, but I'm not letting it continue. You are going to tell the truth if I have to drag you down there and force you to myself."

"Mort, it can't just be what I said that made them charge her. Maybe you don't know her as well as you think you do."

Mort looked at her, not believing what he was hearing. Not believing he was once married to this woman.

"I'll go."

Mort looked back at Ted.

"I'll go with you and tell them she was here." He said, looking at Amy with what could only be described as disappointment. "Dylan will be released and Amy won't have to admit she lied."

Mort didn't really care about the last part.

* * *

"Need some more tissues, sweetheart?"

Dylan looked up at the nice police lady who had been nothing but kind even though Dylan was thought to be a murderer. Maybe it was the sight of her crying that gained pity but the woman had been passing her tissues and water into her cell all night as she sat cross legged on her cell bed and cried.

"Thank you." She said, taking another tissue to dry her eyes.

"I don't mean to be nosy but you're her, aren't you? That girl that was in all the papers a few months ago? With the crazy boyfriend?"

Dylan nodded. "That was me. Which is why I'm taking being charged with murder kinda hard." She cried harder.

"I suspect it would be a little difficult."

"A little." She sniffled, trying to dry her eyes and having not much luck since she was still crying. "I didn't do it."

"Uh-huh."

Dylan shook her head. Why would no one believe her? Why would she ever want to hurt someone after what happened to her?

_Why the hell did Amy lie?_

Dylan sat in her cell, contemplating all these questions. It wasn't long before she lay down, though it wasn't very comfortable and it wasn't long after that she dozed off.

She was awoken the next morning by her cell door opening. She opened her eyes groggily. She saw the same nice lady. "Breakfast?"

"Hey, my shift is over. Get breakfast at your own house."

Dylan frowned. "My own…?"

The officer smiled. "You're free to go."

Dylan jumped up and walked quickly out of the cells into the station and saw Mort sitting there, waiting for her. On the other side of the room, Ted was filling out a form. When he saw her, Mort got up and walked over to her, hugging her. "Sorry, I'm late. They wouldn't let me in last night."

Dylan smiled. "You're amazing. I don't care how long it takes. Thank you for going to get Ted."

"Of course I did."

Ted had finished filling out whatever he had to fill out and walked over to the two of them.

"Thank you for coming out here." Dylan said.

"I'm sorry it had to happen this way." Ted said to her. He looked at Mort. "Mort."

He held out his hand and Dylan was afraid Mort might not but he did shake it.

"Thank you, Ted."

Ted nodded and left the police station and Mort and Dylan weren't far behind him.

* * *

"Do you want anything?"

Dylan shook her head but grabbed Mort's arm to bring her to lie in the bed with her. "I can't believe all this happened."

"Well, it's finished now. The worst is over." He said, wrapping his arm around her shoulders as she laid her head on his chest.

"I know. I just…I was terrified last night. No one believed me."

Mort caught her chin to make her look up at him. "I believed you."

Dylan looked into his eyes before reaching up and placing a kiss against his lips. Mort put his arms around her waist to hold her tighter. It felt so good to be in his arms again. Dylan hadn't experienced it in so long and after the night she had, it was really the best place to be. She parted the kiss and looked at him. "I love you, Mort. I think more than I've ever loved anyone and I've thought I was in love a lot."

"Oh? You have?" Mort asked, his eyebrows raised.

Dylan smiled at his bout of apprehension. "Yes. But I'd still choose you over any of them. Every time."

He smiled. "I love you too. Which I didn't think was going to be possible after…I love you is what I'm trying to say."

Dylan kissed him again, trying to make it clear that they wouldn't be leaving the room for the rest of the day.

* * *

"This is so frustrating!"

Mort frowned at Dylan's anger. "I'm sorry, did you want a Dorito?" He asked, holding out the packet.

Dylan smiled. It was a few days later and she was lying on the couch in his robe as he sat on the other end, reading and consuming his favourite snack. She was doing what she always seemed to be doing these days. Looking for somewhere new to live. "No. I'm talking about these prices. I can't afford anything good in here unless I get a roommate which I don't want. I want a house. I got used to living in a house. I don't want to go back to living in a box parading as an apartment."

Mort looked at her. "But if you got a roommate…?"

"I could get a housemate, I suppose. But I don't want to advertise to live with someone I don't know. I used to live with someone I did know and not even that ended well."

Mort nodded and put the book and Doritos on the table before placing a hand on her legs that her lying across him. "What if it was someone you did know?"

"Like who?"

"Well, I've been thinking lately…I need to get back to my normal life and out of this town…"

Dylan sat up. "Wait, you? Mort, are you asking me to live with you?"

"Because it would be so different than now?"

"Well…Yeah. You own this place and I'm staying. If we got a place together, we'd both own it. You're willing to share a house with me?"

"I'm already sharing my life, what's a mortgage payment? As long as we get a big back garden for Chico so he can never use it."

Dylan smiled. "You're serious? You want to move in with me? Actually and officially move in with me?"

"Actually _and _officially? I didn't think it would be both." He grimaced. "But sure, yeah. Let's give it a go. It's time to make a fresh start somewhere new."

Dylan reached over and kissed him. "I can't believe we're going to live together."

"I can't believe you're still not getting that we're doing that right now."

* * *

**Sorry for the long update. To be honest, I'm not entirely happy with this story as is so I'm hoping that once I get Dylan and Mort out of Tashmore and somewhere new with new stories, I'll get more bursts of inspiration!**

**Thanks for reading! Please Review!  
**


	20. Finding A Home

**To LORI: Thanks, sorry for the extremely long update!**

**Here's Chapter 20!**

"Is she ready?"

"Oh, you can go in. She's in the dark room."

"Thanks." Mort said awkwardly. Though he had Dylan now, he still had a habit of being incredibly awkward around women and Dylan's heavily tattooed and pierced assistant didn't help matters. Mort walked through the hallway and away from Dylan's assistant. When he got to the darkroom, he knocked on the door and waited for an answer.

"Come in."

He walked inside where he found her hanging up drying photos. "Ready to go?"

"Almost." Dylan said. "Excited?"

"To get out of here? Kinda."

Dylan smiled. "Still afraid of Janet?"

"I'm not afraid of her." Mort replied. "I'm petrified of her."

"She's lovely, really."

"Not very receptionisty."

"That's why I hired her. I didn't think anyone else would and everyone deserves a chance."

"Yeah, until they start sacrificing farm animals on their desk."

"Oh, stop. Don't judge a book by its cover, Mister Author. Now, excited to go house hunting?"

"Only until I remembered how tedious looking for houses can become after a very short time." Mort answered.

"Well, hopefully we won't be looking for long." She said. "I, for one, cannot wait to finally get a new place to call home. It's been a while."

"Way to hurt the cabin's feelings."

Dylan smiled. "That cabin knows I love it. Okay, ready to go."

Mort looked at the photographs hanging up. "These are…of a topless man."

Dylan laughed. "It's just to accompany an interview for one of the magazines. He's in that new movie with the aliens…or the monsters. Zombies? Something that makes money." She shrugged. "He's the up and coming next best thing, apparently."

"That's…Good for him." Mort nodded. "So your day just consists of photographing half naked men? Super."

"Hey, it's not my first choice either." Dylan shrugged. "It's work. And it gets my name out there. Believe me; I had much more fun shooting your lake than I did shooting that guy."

"I don't know, I'd love to shoot that guy." Mort said jokingly.

"Come on." She smiled, taking his hand and leading him out of the room. She went and put on her jacket, scarf and hat and they left the office.

"So, when you say it's not your first choice," Mort said as they walked down the street. "What would be your first choice? What kind of photographer do you want to be?"

"Well, I'd love to be a photojournalist but that's not just something you can throw yourself into. You almost always need a degree, something I never got. I'm lucky to be doing what I'm doing."

"How did you manage to get your own office without a degree?"

"I just started out by taking some pictures, realised I liked it, went travelling, built up a portfolio and when I came back here, I did a night course while I waitressed during the day. I got in with a small photography agency, first developing and then getting bumped up to weddings and stuff. One of the mother's for a wedding I shot happened to be friends with the editor of a small time fashion magazine, I don't think it's even running anymore, but I just kept working and working and now here I am. I got lucky, I guess."

"I've seen your work, it's not just luck."

Dylan smiled up at him. "Thank you."

"And you never know, you might take that one great photograph at random and your career goes exactly where you want it. You could take the picture that's the next…You know, that girl with the eyes on National Geographic…"

"The Afghan Girl?"

"That's the one." They got to the car and got in. "Although, if you do become a photojournalist, you might end up being sent all over the world and that wouldn't be fun for me."

"Unless I took you with me. That could be a whole load of material for your books."

"A vendetta and an axe is good for me."

"That's not comforting."

* * *

"So, what do you think?"

It was the first house so they didn't want to get too ahead of themselves but Mort had to admit, he didn't hate it. "It's good."

"Three floors, front and back porch, and if you'll look out this window, there's a big back garden, just like you wanted." Audrey, the realtor explained.

"Isn't it a bit big for just the two of us?" Dylan asked.

"Well," Audrey said. "You say that now but when any little ones come along, you'll be thankful for the extra space, believe me."

Mort and Dylan looked at each other awkwardly. Did they point out that "little ones" had not even been discussed by them yet so this lady probably shouldn't bring them up ever again?

"And just look at these crown moulds." Audrey went on. "Aren't they gorgeous? Also, I've spoken to the previous owners and under these carpets are hardwood floors, that's always a bonus if you have an issue with carpet."

"Well, carpets did make fun of me in high school…" Mort said under his breath but it still earned him a light elbow into the stomach by Dylan.

"The owners are also ready to sell since they've moved into their new house so that might sway them to lower the asking price and you two could move in right away. Unless you're willing to wait till after."

"After what?" Mort frowned.

"The wedding."

* * *

"I didn't tell her we were getting married!"

"Well, neither did I!"

"I'm not even wearing a ring…"

"How does she know? You're wearing gloves."

"It's cold!" Dylan huffed. "Look, the woman was going on about kids too, maybe she's just a traditionalist and doesn't understand that two people could be moving in together without planning anything else."

They were in the car now, following Audrey to the next house. "She's worse than Garvey."

"Forget about her, what did you think of the house?"

"I liked it." Mort shrugged.

"Liked it enough to live there?"

"No, I thought it'd make a nice brothel. Yes, nice enough to live there."

"Really? You didn't think it was too big? I mean, why would we need three bedrooms?"

"Well, we could convert one into an office, I'll need one, there's a basement so you could make that a darkroom or something. Plus, we did say we wanted a backyard."

"Maybe that's where she got the kids idea from. Usually you want a big backyard; it's for your kids."

"Look, it's the first house. We've got more to look at."

"But it's a maybe?"

"Look, the truth is," Mort said. "In a few years, we might…need the extra room."

Dylan felt that wave of awkwardness pass through her again. "Oh…You agree with Audrey?"

"No, not that way but I mean, you keep saying it yourself. You want this to be a home and so do I. I'm really hoping it'll be my last home and I don't have to go looking for one again and if that is the case…Well, shouldn't we prepare for what might happen in the future instead of what we're doing right now?"

It wasn't a subject either of them were really keen to talk about but it was something that needed to be considered. When Mort was buying a house with Amy, it wasn't any secret that they were thinking of one that would be suitable for a family and Dylan even had to admit, that was on her mind when she bought her house with Ryan but she had been engaged to him at the time.

"Dylan?" Mort said when she didn't reply.

"Oh, sorry." She replied, shaking her head. "I was just thinking."

"Having second thoughts?"

"No, of course not. I just…You're just after throwing me. I didn't think you thought about this kind of stuff."

"Well, I don't. Much. Just when thinking of the kind of house to go for. Dylan, if this going too fast for you…"

"It's not." Dylan said. "I just hoping I'm not rushing you into anything where you think you have to consider all these things."

"You're not rushing me into anything. I asked you."

"Yeah but only because I kept going on and on and on about not being able to afford a house and wanting a house and everything right in front of you…"

"No, it's because I love you." Mort said. "Dylan, aren't we buying this house in hopes of having a future together? That someday down the line we might get married and have kids? You bought a house with someone before with hopes of all that."

"Exactly! When I got the house with Ryan, it was the first place that I really felt settled in. Before that I was always moving here and there, living all over the place, trying to figure out what I wanted. Then I thought I did. Now I can't step foot in that house alone and I hate it because I loved that house so much. I don't want to invest in something that much again because what everything gets ruined like it did before?" Dylan sighed. "I don't want to ruin things with you."

"Nothing is going to get ruined." Mort said though he knew where she was coming from. He didn't want a repeat of having to leave his home either. "You trust me, don't you?"

"Of course."

"And you're not having second thoughts about moving in together, are you?"

"No. I really want to have a home with you. I love you. It's…" Dylan had to be honest. "It's the fact that you could see yourself having a life with me that I'm not understanding. I guess I'm just waiting for the inevitable moment when everything goes to hell."

"Listen to me, the reason I can say we should get a bigger place in case we have kids someday is because I know that I am going to do everything I can to make this work. I am not planning for this to be some giant mistake. I'm buying this house with you because you're who I want to live my life with."

Dylan sighed with a defeated smiled. "I'm panicking, aren't I?"

"Your last boyfriend tried to kill you. I think you're allowed."

"Your wife cheated on you, you're not panicking."

"Trust me; I'm just much better at hiding it."

* * *

"Really? That's wonderful! Just…great news. Thanks."

Dylan hung up the phone a few days later and Mort looked at her from where he was standing in the cabin's kitchen, only hearing her side of the conversation.

"Bad news?"

Dylan smiled. "Very funny."

"What's going on?"

"Well, she may be nosey and intrusive but that Audrey sure knows how to sell a house. She's had mine for two weeks and she already has potential buyers."

"That's great news."

"I know. I think it was her decision to not market it as a crime scene that did the trick. Maybe lowering the price now that I can afford to might have had something to do with it too."

Mort nodded. "Maybe."

"I don't care how she did it, as long as it works out." Dylan said.

"Really? You don't mind that you're getting rid of it? Someone else is going to be living there?"

She sighed. "I'm not focusing on that. I'm focusing on finding a new home. With you. Although, if it does sell, that means I have to go back there again and take things out of the attic, the basement, I'm selling it furnished but there's some stuff I'm going to need to take out of there."

"Well, I can help with that."

"I was expecting you to." Dylan smirked.

"Oh, a little cocky, aren't we?"

"I just know you love me."

Mort smiled, pressing his lips against hers. Dylan reciprocated, wrapping her arms around his neck. He sighed when he pulled away. "I really shouldn't start something I can't finish."

"Why…Why can't this finish?" Dylan pouted.

Mort chuckled. "I have a meeting with my publisher."

"About a new book?" Mort nodded. "That's great news."

"Yeah, well I figured if I'm moving on from the cabin and getting my life back to normal, I should try and get back into proper work too. Plus, you know, we could probably use the advance with the houses we've been seeing."

"If you want to look for somewhere smaller, and I'm not saying that for any other reason than money..." She said quickly when he gave her a look for going on about smaller houses again.

"Money isn't a problem, I just meant if the house that we end up wanting is a bit of a fixer-upper."

"Oh, I never thought of that. That could be fun."

Mort chuckled. "One step at a time, first we need to find a house."

When Mort had left, Dylan started sorting through the things she'd brought with her from the house that hadn't really been doing anything but gathering dust. She decided that if she had to clean out the old house of more junk, she might as well rent out a storage unit and put that stuff in there. Then she decided she might as well find stuff around the cabin that wasn't being used for the time being and put them in there too until they got a new house.

_Or EBay._

She frowned when there was a knock on the door. Unless Mort had forgotten his key, a knock on that door never led to anything good. Dylan got up and answered it and her fears were founded.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Boy, you really have your foot in the door here, don't you?"

Dylan rolled her eyes. "What do you want, Amy?"

"To talk to Mort."

"He's not here."

"When will he be back?"

"No idea."

"Where is he gone?"

"No idea."

"You two are very close." Amy said sarcastically.

"No thanks to you. If you had your way, I'd be falsely imprisoned right now."

"I'll come back another time."

"Don't bother; we're not going to be here." Dylan said. "We're moving."

"What? Together?" Amy frowned.

"No, separately. It was just a coincidence we both decided at the same time." Dylan said sarcastically.

"How did you rope him into that one? Tell him you're pregnant?"

"Oh, I think you're mistaken. I'm not the liar here. And if you must know, he asked me to move in with him."

"When is this happening?"

"We're looking for a house right now."

"Oh, so never?"

"Excuse me?"

"It will never happen." Amy said. "I know Mort. Better than you, believe it or not. He'll start writing again, forget you exist and before you know it, you'll be out on your ass."

"But I won't cheat." Dylan smiled. "So I still win. Even if your hypothetical does happen, I still have some integrity in the situation. Do you ever miss it?"

"You're very quick to talk about something you have no idea about."

"I'm not the only one. Now if you're done weighing in on my relationship, I'll tell Mort you called. You know, if I want to piss him off at any point in our future."

"I'll tell him myself."

"How? You'll excuse us if we don't give you the new address; we're trying to tone down the crazy."

Amy glared at her. "Well, good luck with that."

Dylan didn't like her tone. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Did Mort ever tell you what happened when he caught me and Ted?"

"I'm guessing a lot of shouting and cursing."

"You'd be right. You have no idea how angry Mort can really get."

"Well, I'll learn."

"Better do it quickly before he pulls the gun on you."

"What are you talking about?" Dylan frowned.

Amy smirked.

* * *

Mort Rainey was in a very good mood when he got back to the cabin that evening. His meeting had gone just the way he wanted it to and it seemed his life was going that way too. He was going to be writing and living with the woman he loved, Shooter wasn't around anymore and he'd be getting away from the people of Tashmore. Life seemed to be looking up.

"Dylan?" Mort called when he came inside. He walked up the stairs when he didn't see her. "Where are you? I've got great…" Mort froze when he saw her sitting at his computer desk, not looking too happy. "What are you doing?"

"I found this." Dylan said and Mort's eyes widened when he saw the gun in her hand. "I was just wondering if you were ever going to tell me that you have it."

"Dylan…"

"I just…I didn't know you had a gun and you do."

"I just know how much you hate that kind of stuff."

"Yeah which is why I would prefer knowing I was in a house with that kind of stuff rather than finding it and knowing you didn't tell me. I mean, you had it so well hidden that even the cops didn't find it when they searched here so it's not like I would have known unless I was told and you didn't tell me."

Mort frowned. "Who did?"

"Amy was here."

"Amy." Why was that woman still trying to ruin his life? "What else did she tell you?"

"Nothing. Just that you have one. Why?" Dylan asked, dreading the answer. "Is there something I should know?"

"No." Mort replied quickly. "Of course not. Dylan, I didn't tell you because I didn't even think about it. I don't ever use it. It's not even loaded."

"Why do you have it?"

Mort didn't really know how to reply. "I just do. Look, I didn't even consider it when Shooter was around here, shouldn't that tell you something?"

"I just would have felt more comfortable knowing that I was in the same house as a deadly weapon."

"It's not loaded. The only way it'd be deadly was if I threw it at someone and even then, we're talking concussion, tops."

"Please don't joke about this. You know how terrified I am of these kinds of things. After what happened with Ryan…"

Mort had to admit, the thought that she might be comparing this to what her ex had done to her wasn't making him happy. "Dylan, your ex stabbed you with a piece of glass. There's a bit of a difference between that and an unloaded gun. Are we not going to have any windows either?"

Dylan nodded, not looking at him but he could still see her unreadable expression. "Thanks a lot, Mort."

Dylan got up and walked away, going down the stairs.

"Dylan, wait. I didn't mean it like that." Mort said, getting up too and turning to her.

"Don't bother. I'm going for a walk." She said, leaving the house.

* * *

"Hello?"

"Put your girlfriend on the phone."

Ted frowned. "Mort?"

"Yeah, put her on."

"She isn't here."

"When will she be back?"

"I don't know. Mort, Amy isn't living here anymore."

That caught Mort off guard. "What?"

"After what happened with your girlfriend, we got into a huge fight and decided to take some time apart until she got her head around the divorce. If you're looking for her, there's no point looking here."

Ted hung up the phone and Mort put the phone down. Now he couldn't yell at Amy and couldn't find Dylan so she could yell at him. Deciding which one he'd prefer to find, despite the fact that he'd be getting yelled at instead of doing the yelling, he went to look for Dylan.

He walked along the path that was beside the lake and eventually, Mort found her sitting on a rock and looking out at the water. He walked over and sat beside her but she didn't take her eyes off the lake.

"I'm an idiot." He said but got no reply. "And I'm sorry. I shouldn't have made light of what happened to you."

She still didn't reply.

"Dylan, I'm begging ya here."

"What do you want me to say, Mort?" She said, finally looking at him. "This isn't some stupid little fight about jealousy or…Or how many bedrooms we should have. This is a gun, Mort and I don't want a gun coming into what is supposed to be our new home. And I try to tell you why and you make a joke about it?"

"I use sarcasm as a defence mechanism and it sometimes comes back to bite me in the ass. I'm sorry, I didn't think. I'm just so used to it and the entire situation with you finding the gun, it threw me. I mean, you can't honestly think I would use it, do you?"

"Then why do you have it?"

Mort couldn't really tell her. If just having it was a problem for her, he couldn't imagine how she'd react when he told her the last time he'd actually held it. "It's a…precaution. Safety."

Dylan sighed. "I wish you told me."

"I'm sorry."

Dylan nodded. "Are you willing to get rid of it when we move into the new house?"

Mort was about to say yes when a voice in his head stopped him. And the voice wasn't his, it was Shooter's.

_Be careful Mister Rainey, I might just come back and you might need it when I do._

"Mort?" Dylan frowned.

Mort looked up at her.

_What if I put her in danger? Wouldn't it be useful then?_

He still didn't answer and Dylan huffed, getting up. "This is unbelievable…"

"Dylan, wait." Mort said, getting up and turning as she walked away. She stopped and turned to look at him.

"For what? Mort, you keep saying it doesn't matter and it's not even loaded but I ask you to get rid of it to give me piece of mind and you won't even answer me. Is it really that important?"

"No, it's not."

"Then get rid of it. Please."

"I will. Tomorrow. It's gone. I'll sell it to a pawn shop or something. I don't care, just trust me."

"Mort, I do. I just …I don't care if it sounds stupid, even not loaded, it scares me."

Mort walked over to her. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I honestly didn't even remember it."

Dylan nodded. "Okay."

"You forgive me?"

"I forgive you." She said, going into his arms where he pressed a simple kiss to her lips. Dylan sighed and hugged into him, thankful that she finally found someone that truly cared about her. Mort was having less happy thoughts.

_I need to talk to Amy and get her out of my life once and for all._

* * *

**So sorry for the extremely long wait. To be honest, I had no idea I'd left it so long and then it took me a while to write this chapter! I guess real life got in the way!**

**Thanks for reading! Please Review!**


	21. Research

**To CaptainSkitzoVamp: But if Amy dies, who will I have to ruin everything? =P Thanks!**

**To LORI: Hopefully Dylan wouldn't trust anything Amy tried to plan! Thank you!**

**Here's Chapter 21!**

Dylan was surprised when she woke up to not feel anyone next to her. She opened her eyes and saw Mort up and getting dressed. It was unusual to say the least, Dylan was always awake first.

"What are you doing?" She frowned.

"Getting dressed. It's a daily ritual amongst most people." He said jokingly.

"Yes but you don't usually get up for another three or four hours." Dylan said. "And daily? Really?"

"I said most people. I never mentioned myself." He smirked.

"Why are you up so early? Are we seeing houses today?"

"No. I…Have a meeting with a publisher."

Dylan frowned. "Another one? Already?"

Mort shrugged. "It's my return to work, got to do it right."

Dylan nodded. "Can't any of these meetings be turned into phone calls? It's my first day off in days, I thought we could spend it together…Not leaving this room…"

"Please don't tempt me."

"But it's so fun." She smiled mischievously. "So are a few other things I had planned…"

It didn't take Mort long to climb back onto the bed.

"I can be late."

* * *

"Amy."

Amy stood up quickly when Mort got to the table. "Mort. I can't believe you called."

"Yeah well, we need to talk." He said, sitting down. "You…"

"Do you want anything? Coffee?"

"No, I'm fine. I don't plan on staying here long. I just want to say…"

"I know what you're going to say, Mort." Amy said. "I don't know what's wrong with me lately. I don't feel like myself at all lately, thinking of the stuff I've done…"

"Oh believe me, it was you."

"I know that." She sighed. "I didn't ever want to hurt you, ever with the affair or after."

"How did you expect to soften the blow that you were cheating on me for months? With a puppet show?"

"You see, this is the problem. I try to talk to you like an adult and you keep making stupid jokes and sarcastic comments."

"Oh, now you want to act like grown-ups?" Mort asked. "You weren't acting very mature when you were stealing my dog and trying to get my girlfriend put in prison."

"I was waiting to see how long it was before she was brought up."

"Yes, believe it or not, I kind of wanted to talk about the fact that you lied to the police so she would get arrested for murder. It was one of the topics on my mind."

"Oh please, she would have been fine if she was innocent."

"She is innocent!" Mort said angrily before huffing and trying to calm himself down. "We can't keep doing this, Amy. We're divorced; you were the one who filed the papers."

"I know that, Mort. There's no need to remind me."

"So, what?" Mort frowned. "Do you regret it or something? You want to get back together?"

Amy looked at him with scrutinising eyes. "What would you do if I said I did?"

"Jesus, Amy…" Mort said, sitting back in the chair.

"Hypothetically!" Amy said loudly. "This is just a hypothetical."

"It wasn't when I asked!"

Amy was silent for a second before replying. "No, I don't want to get back together. I want to try and make things right with Ted."

"So you'll leave me alone to get on with my life?" Amy didn't reply. "Amy!"

"I don't like her!" Amy said. "There is something about her, Mort that is just…Not right. I don't trust her."

"I'm not asking you to! I trust her!"

"Well, maybe you shouldn't. I mean, what do you know about this woman, really? I'd be surprised if that's even her real name, Dylan…"

"It's her real name." Mort said tiredly. "And I know a lot more about her than you think."

"Well I know she knows your life's story. You told her about the drinking and the…And the plagiarism?" Amy whispered. "Mort, one bad argument and she could use all that against you. She could go to any of those fancy magazines she works for."

"She won't."

"How do you know?"

"Because I trust her." Mort said, annoyed. "And I wasn't the only one spilling my secrets. You told her about the gun."

"Alright, so I was annoyed. She was being so smug about you two living together. Living together? Mort, we didn't live together until we were married."

"As ludicrous as this may seem, I'm not using our marriage as a guide to a successful relationship."

Amy looked at him tiredly. "We had some good years."

"Which have been overcome with resentment and bitter memories but yeah, we got some good times out of it." He said sarcastically.

"You know we had a good marriage for the most part. It was just the end, Mort. Every couple has problems."

"Yeah. Hey, remember that laugh fest when I caught you cheating on me? Or remember the party that was my drinking problem? Classic times."

"You are impossible to talk to."

"No, I'm just trying to make it impossible to be made a fool of. I've let it happen too many times and I'm not planning on letting it happen again. Damnit, you were supposed to be the one person in the world I could count on, Amy, and you were the one who ended up making my life turn to crap. Now I'm trying to let someone else help me put myself back together and you're trying to ruin things for me again? Why can't you leave me alone?"

"Because you're mine!"

"You have Ted! You want Ted!"

"But you're still part of my life!"

"Not out of my choosing!"

"I don't want to lose you from my life, Mort." Amy said, at a loss. "I still love you, not the way that a wife should or how you deserve but I still care about you so much."

"Like as a reliable pet?"

"Like someone I want in my life."

"But just not as a husband?"

Amy sighed. "Things weren't working that way anymore. A divorce was just inevitable but leaving each other's lives completely? I didn't consider that."

"Well, I did. And I bet Ted did."

"You didn't consider it until she came along. You wouldn't even sign the papers."

"And you loved that! You loved that I didn't want to let our marriage go…"

"That's not true."

"Because it gave you all the control. Well, you know what? I signed those papers, Amy and you mightn't like how or why but it's done and that means I don't "belong to you" anymore. You cannot control who comes in and out of my life like you're trying to with Dylan. I can't let that happen."

"It's just…You didn't know her for very long before you signed the papers and that's not you. You think about things and you didn't seem to do that. Now you're buying a house with her? You haven't even been together for a year. It's so fast, Mort."

"I know what I'm doing. What is the point of waiting around five years? Ten years? You and I were together that long and look at us."

"That doesn't mean you jump straight into things."

"I'm not jumping into anything."

"Really? How did you two even get together?"

Mort was the one who stayed silent now.

"Mort?" Amy frowned.

"We were drunk, happy?"

"Drunk? You screwed some random woman when you were drunk and now you're moving in with her? I know it's been a while since one night stands were things you had to worry about but that's not how you do it."

"Well, I was considering asking her to start sneaking around and rent cheap motel rooms…"

"Jesus Christ, is there anything I can say where you won't bring up the fact that I had an affair?"

"If you want to judge how my relationship started, you got to able to hear a few home truths."

"Relationship? You had sex and she didn't leave the morning after. That's not a relationship, it's a life lesson."

Mort stood up. "Goodbye, Amy."

"No wait, Mort sit down."

"But if I sit down, how am I going to hear you all the way up there on your high horse?"

"I'm sorry, okay? I'll stop. I was just surprised. I didn't think you'd do something like that."

"Like what? Meet someone?"

"That way."

"Believe it or not, we didn't just meet at a bar and I took her back to my place. We were friends."

_Sort of._

Mort huffed, sitting back down. "It was going to happen, either way and I am glad it did. I love her, Amy. I love her and I am going to live with her, hopefully for the rest of my life."

"You really see yourself marrying again?"

"Who knows? Maybe. Don't you?"

"I haven't thought about it. I didn't think you would have either. It's so soon."

"Hey, I never said I was proposing tomorrow. But at this stage in my life, I thought I'd be settled with…"

"Kids?"

Mort, as always, didn't know what to say when she brought this up. "Isn't that what we both wanted?"

"Yeah, well you don't always get what you want."

"That doesn't mean I'm going to resign myself to not ever trying again. Just because it didn't work out with you, I can't think it won't ever happen with anyone."

"But why her?" Amy asked. "What do you even know about her?"

"A lot more than you do which is why I trust her a lot more than you do."

"I just don't get it. I mean, what about her past?"

"I know about her past."

"Do you know her ex was found innocent originally?"

Mort frowned. "What?"

"I looked up the news stories. Yeah, he was only found guilty on the appeal."

"Why? He did it."

"The original jury didn't think so. They didn't believe her."

Mort hadn't followed the story very closely considering he'd been locked away in his cabin but he had taken Dylan's word about everything. "I don't believe you."

"Fine, look it up yourself. Lack of evidence, not a solid story and she completely crumbled on the witness stand."

"Wouldn't you?"

"I don't mean she was too upset to go on, I mean his lawyer poked so many holes in her story, it looked like a block of Swiss cheese."

"That's what lawyers are supposed to do. It doesn't mean she's lying."

"Obviously the jury had a different opinion and since they were there and you weren't…"

"Neither were you!"

"Which is why I'm telling you to look into it. See if she's really been telling you the truth."

"I don't need to. I believe her. There's no way in hell she's lying, her life was ruined over it."

"Well, she moved on quick enough. Mort, I'm just worried about you. You're going to live with this woman and what if it turns out she's not what she's making herself out to be? I don't want to see you get hurt or taken for a ride."

"Well that wasn't your worry seven months ago."

"Yes, it was! It's why I put off telling you, I couldn't stand to hurt you."

"Well, thanks for the consideration. But like I said, I'm not your worry anymore so enough with the games, Amy. Go back to Ted, try and work it out with him and realise my life has nothing to do with you anymore."

"Mort…"

"Amy, promise me you will stop interfering in my choices."

Amy sighed. "I promise."

Mort nodded and got up again. "Goodbye Amy."

He walked away, not feeling much better like he hoped he would because though Amy was seemingly gone, she'd left a whole new problem behind her.

What did Mort really know about Dylan?

* * *

"Hey."

Mort closed the top of his laptop down quickly when Dylan came out of the bedroom, finished with her shower.

"What are you doing?" She asked.

"Just some research for a story." He lied.

"Top secret research I'm not allowed see?" She frowned, walking over to him and indicating to the quickly shut down computer.

"I just…I'm keeping my cards close to my chest on this one, don't want anyone to know about it until it comes out." He replied. In all honesty, he didn't even know what it would be about yet.

"Well, that's no fair. I sleep with you." She smirked.

Mort raised an eyebrow.

"And there's the whole love thing." She shrugged jokingly. When he didn't reply, she frowned. "Mort? Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." He said quickly. "Just tired. Long day of…sitting."

"Did things with your publisher go well?"

"What?"

"The meeting you had this morning?"

"Oh right," Mort nodded. "Yeah, things were fine. Uneventful."

"Well okay," Dylan said, not really understanding why he seemed so closed off. "Want anything in particular for dinner?"

"No, anything is fine."

"Right, well I guess I'll get started." She replied, walking down the stairs. Once she was in the kitchen, Mort opened his laptop again and resumed reading the story. It wasn't exactly how Amy said it happened but it wasn't exactly how Dylan said it happened either.

**Judge Declares Mistrial in Ryan Callaghan Attempted Murder Case.**

_Judge Franklin Rawlings had declared a mistrial in the attempted murder case against Ryan Callaghan.__Callaghan was arrested in June for stabbing his fiancé in their home. He was charged with aggravated manslaughter and pleaded not guilty on the account. _

_This afternoon, Judge Rawlings was forced to declare a mistrial after the alleged victim, Callaghan's former fiancé Dylan Saunders, took to the stand. Miss Saunders has remained quiet so far throughout proceedings but when questioning by the defence began, Miss Saunders became increasingly erratic and unable to answer simple questions, even those not pertaining to the case. A recess was called after the witness stepped down and soon after, Judge Rawlings called a mistrial. _

"_I have heard many sides to both stories and it remains clear to me that neither side is quite sure in their answers. Neither the victim nor the defendant has remained confident in their stories and so in this instance, I am forced to call a mistrial as I feel I can no longer remain neutral in this case." The Judge told the courtroom this afternoon._

_In the event Rawlings declared a mistrial, he requested it be done by "manifest necessity," which acknowledges the invalidation of a current trial by unforeseeable circumstances but also allows reprosecution without violating a defendant's right from being tried twice for the same offense, known as double jeopardy._

_The jury was excused and a new trial had not been scheduled as of press time._

Well, that didn't mean anything! She had gotten nervous and fumbled over her words. That's all it was. He wasn't found not guilty, it was just…

_Dylan couldn't get her story straight._

Mort shook his head as if to banish the thoughts.

_No, she told me what happened and she obviously told the second jury was happened and they believed her. That man is in jail now. If she got it all wrong, he just would have been found not guilty. Something else went on._

Mort read on to see if there was any more he could scrape from the article to put Dylan in a good light.

_Saunders had originally told police that she came home from work to find shattered glass in the kitchen. Upon calling out for Callaghan, she found herself grabbed by the throat and pinned against the wall. She would later state to police that it was Callaghan. She tried to run but Callaghan caught her and stabbed her near the chest with a piece of glass._

Mort nodded. This was good. This was everything she had told him.

_Saunders managed to get away and alert a neighbour who then called the police._

"_She ran over, screaming," Dale Winters, Saunder's neighbour is quoted as telling the press. "We thought someone had died and when we got outside, she was covered in blood. My wife called the police as I took her inside but there weren't no sign of Ryan."_

_Saunders claimed to have seen Callaghan's car before she went inside but it and Callaghan had disappeared by the time police arrived._

"_I didn't see him go. I didn't see him at all." Winters went on. "Him or the car."_

Mort wasn't going to let that fact work against her. So he got away with no one seeing him, people could do that!

_Saunders was taken to a nearby hospital to receive treatment for her injuries and Callaghan was soon found by police at his work, not claiming to know what had happened and that he had been there the entire time._

"_I'm not saying it wasn't terrible what happened to the victim or even that she is lying," Antonia Simons, the defence attorney for Callaghan, said in her opening statements. "But it was dark and Miss Saunders was obviously disorientated after her ordeal. She was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time, a miscalculated burglary. She had been looking for my client at the time and looking back, that's who she imagined."_

_Despite opposition from the defence, Miss Saunders has never changed her accusation away from Callaghan._

"_I saw his face. I know it was him." She told the prosecution in court._

_Unfortunately for Miss Saunders, that seemed to be the only thing she was sure about as she soon started telling the court about instances that never happened and changing facts and details from her original statements._

_Shaky testimonies and lack of evidence, Callaghan's fingerprints were not recovered on the glass used as a murder weapon and further evidence remained unsubstantial seeing as both the victim and defendant lived at the crime scene, made for a very hard call. One that Judge Rawlings was obviously not capable of making._

_If Callaghan is found not guilty, Saunders could face charges of perjury against her._

Mort was lost. He genuinely didn't know what to think. Some parts of the story told him that Dylan had definitely told the truth and had just cracked under pressure, other parts such as lack of evidence and no one seeing Ryan getting away right after Dylan's screams were rolling around in his head, telling him to be wary.

_No, I'm just suspicious of anything after Amy. _

_Dylan is not Amy. She didn't lie._

_But she did. For me. And Dylan only loses all confidence like she did in the court when she lies. _

_This is crazy, it's Dylan!_

_Dylan admitted he hit her before and Dylan has proven that she's willing to lie to police._

Mort seriously tried to stop thinking these thoughts but he couldn't. If Ryan had treated her badly and Dylan got sick of it, who was to say she didn't plan the whole thing to make him go to prison as revenge?

_Me! I'm saying it! She wouldn't do something like that._

_It's just your stupid writer brain running away with you. It's a good story but it's not true!_

Mort decided he'd have to do some more looking into the story, reading about when Ryan was found guilty and sent to prison. Because he had been. That meant Dylan had been telling the truth.

_She was so positive about it._

_And she did move on from the ordeal very quickly, who is capable of trusting so soon after something like that?_

_No, these are Amy's words. You know Dylan and know she wouldn't do this!_

Mort came up with an idea then.

_No, you can't. No way in hell._

_It might give me some answers._

_It might make you lose Dylan forever._

"Mort?"

Mort clicked out of the browser, getting rid of the story, as he heard Dylan's voice. "Yeah?"

"I need to go to the store; I'll be back soon, okay?"

"Wait," He said, standing up. "I'll go with you."

"Really? I'm only going to be gone about a half hour and aren't you working?"

"I could use a break." He said, getting up and walking down the stairs. "Besides, I haven't got to see you much today."

Dylan smiled. "Surely you can't miss me that quickly."

"You'd be surprised."

There was also the fact that Mort needed to remind himself that this woman was the one he wanted to spend his life with.

_I love her._

_I trust her._

_If I do what I'm thinking, I could lose her forever._

"Mort? Seriously, what is going on?" Dylan frowned. "You look so…Troubled."

Mort looked at her. "I love you."

"I love you too. That's why I'm moving in with you."

"I just…I wanted you to know that. No matter what happens, I love you."

"What are you thinking is going to happen between here and the store?"

"Nothing. I'm just…Thinking up those thrillers and reading all that research, it puts a guy in a dark mood." He half-lied.

"Oh, well," Dylan smirked, sidling up to him. "Why don't you give it a rest for the night and spend it in a good mood with me instead?"

"I can't think of anything I'd rather be doing."

Dylan smiled and kissed him and Mort held her tightly.

_Please don't let anything ruin this._

* * *

"You got a visitor."

Ryan frowned as the guard began opening his cell door. A visitor for him? He didn't get much of those, besides different members of his family and that was usually only on Sundays. He left his cell and went to the visitor's area, sitting down at the glass wall indicated. Sitting across from him, separated by the glass, was a blonde man with glasses Ryan had never even seen before. He picked up the phone.

"Who are you?"

"My name is Mort Rainey. I…"

"The writer?"

"Yeah, I…"

"Want to write a story based on 'my crime'?" Ryan asked tiredly. "Look man, I like your books but I'm after getting about twenty different offers and I've turned them all down. It's not any different this time."

"No, I don't want to write anything." Mort said quickly. Hearing that this guy liked his books was a little daunting. What if he was inspiration?

Ryan frowned. "Then why are you here?"

"I came to talk about Dylan."

"How do you know Dylan?"

"We're…Friends."

"Oh, you're the new guy." Ryan nodded. "Moved on quickly. Well, I got one tip for you, man."

Mort frowned. "What?"

"Run away from that lying, psycho bitch while you still can."

"What?"

"Because if you don't end up in here like me, she'll kill you."

* * *

**Hmmm, has Mort trusted the wrong person? Is Dylan all she's making herself out to be or is there more of a darker side there? **

**Thanks for reading! Please Review!**


	22. Mind Games

**To Lori: Thanks! Sorry for the long wait!**

**Here's Chapter 22!**

"You're completely crazy."

"I'm telling the truth."

"Dylan is not a murderer."

"Neither am I. Not even attempted murder."

"The glass separating us would prove otherwise!" Mort said, getting frustrated. "Look, you were found guilty. She told me you admitted it yourself."

"She says a lot of things. None of which are to be believed."

"And why should I believe you?"

"If you didn't, you wouldn't have come here to ask questions."

Mort couldn't argue with that. "What are you talking about? How is she going to kill me?"

"Slowly, knowing her."

"I can leave, you know."

Ryan huffed. "She starts off all innocent, the greatest girl you'll ever meet. She cooks, takes care of everything so you don't have to, listens to problems and tries to help, completely earns your trust but then…It all changes."

"How?"

"It's like…She uses everything she knows about you to control you and that trust you gave her? She uses it to her advantage. She has all your secrets now, she knows everything about you and all you know about her are complete lies. You think you know anything about her and you're a fool. She's too smart for that. Then you try and beat her and you end up behind bars."

"Why? Why do you think she'd do all that?"

"I don't think, I know. I'm fucking living it. She's fucked up in the head. I have no doubt she loved me, probably loves you or whatever, but I tried to get away and I paid and you will too if you do the same."

"I doubt she forced you to stab her."

"I didn't…!" Ryan tried to calm himself. "I didn't stab her. I wasn't even there! She made that up to frame me."

"I've seen the scar."

"So have I. I was just as surprised it was there as anyone else."

"I still don't think I can believe any of this."

Ryan nodded before looking up at Mort. "She's a great cook, isn't she?"

Mort frowned. "What does that have to do with…?"

"Isn't she?"

"Yeah, what's your poi…?"

"I'd keep an eye on her when she'd adding all the ingredients."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I trusted her and for some strange reason, I started losing hours. Just big chunks of time, gone."

"You think she was drugging you?"

"I'd be doing something completely normal and then I'd be waking up in the middle of the night, in my office or on the couch. Sometimes, I'd be at work and the next thing I remember, it's four in the morning and I'm waking up in bed with her sleeping peacefully next to me."

"And the only logical explanation was that she was drugging you?" Mort asked with a raised eyebrow.

"All I know is the minute I got locked up in here and away from her and her cooking, it stopped."

"You stopped losing time?"

"Completely. I knew where I was and stopped being confused about time."

"If you were losing hours, how do you know that you didn't hurt Dylan and just don't remember?"

"And now you know why I'm in here. You could be a prosecutor. I claimed I was innocent all through that trial and it was torture, no one believed me. Then she came to see me one night."

"During the trial?"

Ryan nodded his head. "Started crying, begging me to tell the truth. I told her I was, that she was the one lying. Instead of going even more hysterical like I thought, she went completely calm. She started talking about remembering everything so vividly, how I seemed and I just thought about the blackouts…Just a second of doubt but that's all she needed. She pounced on it, my credibility was called into account and here I am."

"So she says 'oh, remember those blackouts?' and you're confessing in court?" Mort asked with a raised eyebrow.

"No, the recording she had of me was brought in as evidence."

Mort was shocked. "She recorded you?"

"She said she wanted to talk, she just wanted to trap me. Sweetheart, huh?"

"But you could have done it if even you doubted it?"

"No! I remember that night and I never went home! I am innocent. If you want to stay innocent too, you need to get away quickly. Don't let her know you're not happy like I did, just cut and run."

Mort was thinking of something else. He was completely innocent? "She told me you used to hit her."

"Never once in my life."

"Why should I believe that?"

"Do you really think her sisters, one being married to a cop, would have let that go on? They liked me up until that night and you should know how protective they are."

Mort stayed silent and Ryan smirked.

"You haven't met her family yet, have you? I told you, you'll only ever know what she wants you to know and she couldn't have her family coming in, messing that up."

"I've met two of them."

"But I bet not by her choosing?"

He had Mort there.

"I bet she told you all about some fucked up past too?"

"Well, I mean…It didn't sound too fucked up."

"No being the outcast in high school? Getting bullied? She was the bully."

"High school?"

Ryan frowned. "Yes, you know that big place with the teachers and the students and the education?"

"She told me she was home-schooled."

"Oh, really? Look up…What was it again? James Clover High School Yearbook. There should be a copy lying around the old house if she hasn't burned it to keep up her little ploy. The attic or basement or somewhere. She's in there, sweet as pie."

Mort was beginning to feel sick. "Where did she grow up?"

"What's the street called? Grange Street, I think. Her parents still live there. Why? What did she tell you?"

"Nothing…" Mort said. "I need to go."

"Feel free to come back for a chat any time you like," Ryan smirked. "If you're still alive. Or you know, not locked up in here with me."

Mort got up to leave but sat back down quickly, taking the phone again. "The letters."

"What?"

"You keep sending her letters. Why?"

"A very fucked up reason."

"Why?"

"Because believe it or not, despite all the shit she's put me through, I still have feelings for her. And as fucked up as that is, she's also my only hope. She's the only one who can get me out of here. If you had that chance, wouldn't you do everything you could to take it?"

"She's never opened them."

"I'll keep writing until she does. Until I'm free, out of here and where I belong."

Mort was still for a few seconds before hanging up the phone again and leaving the visiting area.

* * *

"What are you in the mood for tonight?"

Mort looked up from his computer when Dylan came up the stairs. "What?"

"For dinner? What's wrong with you? You've been jumpy ever since your meeting."

"My meeting?" Mort's eyebrows shot up. Did she know where he was?

"With your publisher?" Dylan frowned. "Mort, what's going on?"

"Nothing." Mort shook his head. "Just distracted. Writing."

Dylan looked at the computer screen where an empty page was visible. "Really?"

"Trying to think of a good introduction."

"What do you want for dinner?" Dylan asked, getting tired of feeling like she was being kept out of something.

"Oh…I'm not really hungry." Ryan's words about her cooking were coming back to him.

"You haven't eaten all day."

It was true. His stomach was too in knots to be able to. "I got something after my meeting. I'm fine."

"Are you sure? What did you have?"

"Dylan!" He said, trying to get her to stop asking questions. "I'm fine."

"Fine." She said, storming back down the stairs. "If you want to be that way, you can stay on your own for the night."

"Where are you going?" He stood up as she went to the door.

"Out."

"Where?"

"I don't know. All I know is the company will be infinitely better."

With that, she walked out, slamming the door shut behind her.

Mort considered going after her but something stopped him. The thought that he didn't know who he was going after. If he believed Ryan, something he wasn't sure he could do either, the woman who had just left wasn't anything like she made herself out to be.

_No, that's ridiculous. You've lived with her, no one can keep up a pretence that well. _

_I didn't realise Amy was cheating for months._

_That's completely different. You're actually invested in Dylan, something you stopped doing with Amy before the affair even started. You've paid attention to her and been around a lot and she could not have pretended to be something she wasn't all that time. _

Mort nearly jumped when the phone rang. He got up and walked down the stairs, picking it up.

"Hello?"

"Mister Rainey? It's Audrey. I'm just calling to confirm tomorrow? I have a few houses that I think will make choosing very difficult for yourself and Miss Saunders!"

Mort grimaced. House hunting. He'd completely forgotten. How was he supposed to go around, looking at houses when he wasn't even sure what was going to happen yet?

"Mister Rainey?"

"Oh, sorry." Mort said quickly, realising he'd been silent. "Yeah, that sounds…Great."

"Fantastic. I'll see you both tomorrow at nine, bright and early!"

"Yeah, see ya." Mort hung up the phone and didn't even notice how he clicked his jaw. All he was thinking about was how to figure out what the real truth was before he got in too deep.

_As if you're not already._

_It'll be worse if we buy a house and I find out it was all a lie afterwards._

_You could just ask her._

_That would mean telling her where you were today._

_Actually, it would mean finding her._

Mort looked outside. It was getting quite dark and he could still see her car so she hadn't driven off somewhere. He picked up the phone again and dialled the number to her cell phone. He was disheartened when he heard a ringing in the apartment and looked over at the kitchen table to see Dylan's phone ringing on it. He put down his own phone and looked outside again.

_I should go look for her. _

_I know better than anyone that it isn't always safe out there._

Mort sighed and got up. Regardless of his personal worries, he did still love her and he didn't want her mad at him, especially if all this drama amounted to nothing. If it did turn out that everyone was wrong and Dylan wasn't lying or making anything up, Mort would prefer if she didn't know anything at all about this and so until he could sort out his own head, he had to act like there was nothing wrong. He put on his coat and walked outside, down the path that led from the cabin.

_Where did she go?_

"Lookin' for the little lady, Mister Rainey?"

Mort stopped suddenly.

_Not a chance. Not after all this time._

Mort looked around but found that he was alone. Maybe he had just imagined it?

_That had to be what it was. He's not here. He's long gone. Not even an issue anymore. I just imagined it because it's dark and eerie and it'd be the perfect time for him to pop out but like I said, he's gone._

_He's gone and he's not coming back._

Mort kept walking, trying to keep an eye out for Dylan.

"Dylan?" He called out. "You around here?"

"No but I am."

Mort turned again quickly but once again, found that he was alone. This time, he wasn't so quick to brush off the thought that it might just be his imagination.

_I should just go back to the cabin._

_What about Dylan? You're going to leave her out here on her own? What if Shooter finds her?_

_Shooter is not here! Look around, he's not here. You're just freaking yourself out._

_If he's not here, then there's no need to go back to the cabin without Dylan._

Mort continued to walk, his pace a tad bit quicker than before, hoping to find Dylan soon.

Mort could try and convince himself that he wasn't nervous out here on his own but just the thought of Shooter in his head now made him jumpy. When he heard a twig snap, he turned quickly and found his fear had been warranted as the man was standing right behind him. At least, that's what would have been in Mort's head after the initial shock if he'd had time to process it.

As it turned out, Mort didn't have time to do anything because the second Shooter came into his vision, he felt himself fall back and down a sloping, muddy hill until everything went black.

* * *

_Water. Lots of water. Mort couldn't breathe. He was in the lake and couldn't swim, no matter how hard he tried. He managed to lift his head above the surface to Dylan standing at the edge of lake. He tried calling out to her but no sound came out. Why wasn't she trying to help him? Mort felt the water overtake him and he went under again. When he managed to fight his way to the surface again, it wasn't Dylan anymore. Shooter was standing there and smiling. His crisp blue shirt was covered in blood. Dylan's? Mort couldn't fight anymore and he went under the water again, not coming back up this time._

* * *

"Mort? Mort, can you hear me?

Mort could hear her. He could also feel the world's meanest headache. No amount of Jack Daniels had ever done this to him.

"Mort, wake up. Please, just…Damnit!" He slowly began opening his eyes, not being able to do it any faster when he saw Dylan put her phone to her ear. "I need an ambul…"

"Don't bother, I'm awake." He said groggily.

Dylan looked down at Mort quickly before nearly throwing her phone away to focus on him. "Mort! Thank God."

"What happened?" He asked, trying to sit up. He looked at her to see her drenched before seeing himself wet too but his clothes were muddy and now, he was only wearing one shoe. "Why are we wet?"

"It was raining." Dylan said. Well, that explained the water in his dream, he guessed. That was the only thing about it explained though. "I was looking for you and…What happened?"

"You were looking for me? I was looking for you!" He said angrily. "Where the hell were you?"

"I went for a walk and when I got back to the cabin and saw you weren't there…Mort, what happened? I was so worried…"

Mort tried to stand but he was still woozy. "You were worried? How about the next time you storm out, you bring a phone or something so I don't have to nearly break my neck, making sure you're alright!"

"Mort, I'm sorry. I was angry and…"

"So you figured the best thing to do was storm off into some dreary woods in the middle of the night! Smart!"

"Why are you so mad at me?" Dylan frowned. "I didn't mean for you to get hurt. Do you have any idea how scared I was when I found you? I thought you were dead!"

"Well, I could have been! That's probably what he thought too!" Mort shouted.

"He? Who's he?"

"Shooter! Who the fuck do you think I'm talking about?" He asked, looking around. "Where the fuck did my shoe go?"

"Shooter?" Dylan repeated. "Mort, Shooter's gone. Why are you thinking about him?"

"Because he pushed me! How else do you think I ended up down there? I jumped?"

"I thought you fell and banged your head."

"No, I heard him so I turned around and when I saw him, he pushed me and I fell backwards and banged my head! If I had been conscious when I landed, I'd probably be dead right now!"

"Mort, stop! Please! I didn't know, I'm sorry! We'll call the police…"

"No, I'll call the police!" He said, walking up onto the main trail, given up on finding his shoe.

"Mort, I don't know why you've been angry with me all day but I haven't done anything wrong!"

"No, you're perfect! A complete angel!"

Dylan had no clue why he was acting like this. She could understand if he was lashing out because he had gotten a fright over Shooter or even if he was angry because he'd been out looking for her at the time but he'd been short with her all day and she had no clue why.

"Look, if you want to be angry with me for no reason then fine but you have to let me take you to a hospital or something!" She said.

"What? Why would I let you do that?"

"Because you just hit your head and went unconscious! You might have a concussion or something!"

"I'm fine!"

"Mort!"

"Dylan, just leave me alone!"

Mort walked off and Dylan was about to walk after him before remembering that she'd forgotten her phone. She was about to call back to Mort but decided he didn't want to be around her anyway, the fact that she wanted to turn back would just piss him off more so she'd go herself. She walked back and slid down the little hill, which had now turned to a bit of a mud slide, thanks to the rain and found her phone. She wiped the dirt on it off her jeans before walking back up, stopping at an unusual sight. She walked over and crouched down to find Mort's lost shoe. It was stuck under a tree root that was sticking out of the ground.

_It's facing towards the hill. That means he was facing forward when he fell. _

_So how could he have fallen backwards? _

_And how could his shoe have become lodged under a tree root if he was pushed? _

_His shoe being lodged under a tree root means he could have tripped over it…_

Dylan frowned.

_No, that's…Why would he lie to me about this?_

_Why would he lie about Shooter?_

* * *

Mort stormed into the cabin, leaving the door open for Dylan to follow him in but didn't bother waiting for her to walk in before he walked upstairs to go for a shower. He was covered in dirt. He was taking off his coat and going into the bathroom when he realised he hadn't heard the front door shut yet. He walked out of the bedroom to see it still open and the downstairs of the cabin empty.

"Dylan?"

_Where's she gone now?_

Mort walked down the stairs quickly.

_If Shooter went near her…_

He stopped when she walked through the door.

"Where the hell did you go?"

"Jesus, would you give it a rest?" She said angrily. "I am sick of you shouting at me! It's annoying when I know what I did! When I have no idea, it's really irritating!"

"I just got a fright when I didn't see you." Mort said, realising it was true and that he shouldn't have been taking things out on her. "Shooter could still be out there. I don't want him getting near you."

Dylan was still for a second before holding up her phone. "I forgot this. And I found this." She said, throwing his shoe onto the floor. "Go for your shower."

"Dylan…"

"How about you not talk to me for the rest of the night? I think that could work." She said, walking into the kitchen.

Mort huffed and walked back upstairs, realising nothing could salvage this night and the only way to make sure it didn't get worse was to lock the doors.

* * *

Dylan was annoyed awake the next morning when she heard the phone ringing. Without opening her eyes, she reached over to the coffee table and answered it.

"Hello?"

"I'm just calling to see if you two are ever going to get here? I tried your cell phone but got no answer, obviously you're still at home..."

Dylan frowned, opening her eyes. "Who is this?"

"Audrey, your realtor!" She said, angrily. "And I have been waiting here for over an hour! If you two aren't serious about…"

Dylan lay back down on the couch where she had slept last night, annoyed with herself for forgetting. "Oh, Audrey, I'm so sorry. We both overslept."

"Will you be seeing any houses today?"

"I don't think so." Dylan replied, not thinking their moods last night would have them fawning over wooden floors and marble sinks today. Well, they wouldn't do that any day but today would be the worst time to try and make them. "I'm really sorry."

"So am I." Audrey hung up and Dylan sighed, putting the phone down.

Dylan looked down at her feet to see Chico curled up on the end of the blanket that was covering her. "I have a feeling making Audrey mad is a bad idea."

Chico looked up at her.

"Yeah, you're right. Nothing can be done about it now, back to sleep."

Dylan closed her eyes again and tried to go back to sleep.

"Talking to yourself, first sign of craziness."

She didn't open her eyes when she heard Mort's voice, realising he was sitting up at his computer and not asleep in bed like she thought. "I was talking to the dog. He's the only one who won't freak out at me when I open my mouth lately."

"He's good that way."

"Why didn't you wake me if you didn't sleep in?"

"Why didn't you come up to bed last night?"

"Why didn't you call Audrey to let her know we weren't going to make it? Or do you just like it when people shout at me?"

"I forgot about it." He admitted. "Had other things on my mind."

Dylan opened her eyes but didn't reply. She had nothing to say. She had no idea why they were fighting and she didn't know if he was still angry. If he was, she definitely wasn't going to put up with it today.

"Dylan…"

"Why didn't you call the police?"

Mort frowned. "What?"

"Last night. You said you'd call the police to tell them about Shooter. Why didn't you?" Dylan was still contemplating how she found his shoe. The fact that he didn't call the police to report Shooter didn't calm her suspicions.

"I decided that I've told them enough about him and they still don't believe me. I'm going to call Ken instead."

"Because he's done a better job? He's never even seen Shooter."

"Neither have the police."

"Neither have I."

Mort frowned. "What does that mean?"

"I'm just saying, it's the cops' job. He pushed you and knocked you unconscious last night. That's assault."

"We also think he's guilty of arson but the police haven't taken that seriously either."

"Did he say anything about the book?"

"What?"

"When you saw him last night," Dylan clarified. "I mean, all this is over a book so he must have mentioned it."

"No he didn't. He just pushed me."

"Why come all the way up here, follow you and just push you without a word? It doesn't make sense."

"Shooter is crazy."

"Even so, he'd have to have been back here for a reason and to just push…"

"I don't know!" Mort said loudly. The questions were unnerving him because they were quite good and he couldn't answer them. "I don't know why he does what he does! Why did he say I stole his work? Why does he want me to change the ending to my own story? Why would he burn down a house I don't live in anymore? I don't know why he's doing any of this shit! He just is! And I thought out of anyone in the world, you would be the one who would believe me!"

Dylan stood up and looked up at him. "Don't you dare! I have always believed you! I have never once doubted you, even before we were together! I am just asking questions you are going to get asked by anyone you go to, Ken or the police! If you can't answer me, how do you expect to answer them? I am the one who has always been on your side! Frankly, I don't know why I bother lately."

"Well, it's supposed to be because you love me…"

Dylan let out an indignant laugh. "Love? You're bringing up love? Where was all this duty over love yesterday when I couldn't move without you getting into a fit of anger? Where was this love talk when I was thanking God you were safe and you were blaming me because I walked outside? Where was all that love talk then because I sure as hell wasn't feeling any love yesterday!"

Mort sighed, putting his hand over his mouth. He was beginning to feel that old trapped feeling he'd get when he was at a loss in his marriage. He and Dylan were getting into that already? "What are we going to do?"

Dylan was quiet now. "I don't know. I don't what I did."

"You didn't do anything! It's all me…My own problems. I just…"

"What?" Dylan asked, walking up the stairs. "Mort, what is it? If you told me…"

"No, I can't!" He said before realising. Once it came out, Mort realised he'd let slip that there definitely was something he was hiding.

"What?" Dylan frowned. "You can't tell me something? Of course you can."

"No, I really can't."

"Why not?"

Mort was silent for a second. "Because you'd never forgive me."

Now Dylan was getting scared. "Mort, tell me."

"Dylan…"

"Please." She said.

They were in silence until the phone rang. Dylan tried to ignore it but Mort's eyes flitting to the phone down on the table made her huff and go down to answer it, if only to tell the person on the other end to go away so she could get back to the conversation quickly and Mort couldn't get out of it.

"Hello?"

"Dylan? Is that you?"

Dylan froze. "How did you find me?"

Mort looked up quickly at that.

"Don't hang up." Ryan said quickly.

"What…What are doing? You're not allowed…You're not allowed call me! How did you find me?"

"Just listen to me for two seconds."

"No! No, how did you find me? How do you know where I am?"

Mort had hurried down the stairs now, knowing exactly who it was and how he found her. He took the phone out of her hand and placed it to his own ear. "Hello?"

Hearing Mort's voice, Ryan hung up quickly. Mort put the phone down and looked at Dylan who had gone snow white. He put his hands on her arms.

"Dylan? It's okay. He's gone."

"How did he find me?" She said, to herself more than Mort. She wasn't even focusing on Mort. "He shouldn't have been able to find me…"

"Dylan, it's okay. He's in prison. He's not going to find you."

"He already found me! He knows where I am! I don't know how but he knows I'm here! I have to leave."

She made Mort's hands leave her arms and hurried upstairs.

"Wait, what?" Mort frowned, going after her. "What do you mean leave?"

"I can't stay where he can find me! He could send anyone after me! I put him in jail!"

"Dylan, he's not going to be able to hurt you."

"Someone else could! You always hear of people in prison getting people on the outside to do these kinds of things. I am not staying where he knows I am."

"Dylan, stop." Mort said as she started grabbing various items of clothing. "Stop." He grabbed her again. "Stop!"

Dylan stopped and finally looked at him, the fear on her face still evident. "How did he find me?"

Mort took her into his arms and felt awful. For going to the jail, for giving Ryan information and for what he was about to say next.

"I don't know."

* * *

**Sorry for the long wait! I've been really busy with college and work and things have been piling up. Hope you enjoyed this long overdue chapter!**

**Thanks for reading! Please Review!**


	23. Missing

**To Lori: Thanks! Ryan could be lying but Mort will have to try and figure it out!**

**To KeysmasherDeppFan: Thanks! I'm glad you like it!**

**Here's Chapter 23!**

"Where is she?"

"I have no idea, gone into hiding." Mort huffed in Ken's office a few days later.

"Have you tried calling her?"

"Her phone is always off, for obvious reasons. I've tried finding her family but I don't remember half of their first names, let alone their last names. I don't even know her parents' names to let them know. I can't find her anywhere. I'm beginning to realise why she never stayed put, moving from hotel to hotel for months."

Ken nodded. "If she didn't live anywhere, she couldn't be found."

"Except now I can't find her."

"So you want me to find her?"

Mort didn't feel great hiring a private investigator to find Dylan. "That would put my right at the level of stalker. I have to trust her to find me when she wants to."

"Do you think she will?"

"I hope so."

"Do you want me to find out how the guy found out where she was? I could get onto the prison; I got a few contacts in there. He'd be sorted out soon enough."

"I know how." Mort looked too guilty to lie. "I went to go see him."

"Why would you do that?" Ken frowned.

"To see his side of things."

"Once again, why would you do that?"

"I was curious. She's so closemouthed about it."

"He tried to kill her. I doubt she wants to relive those memories."

"Well, he was much more open about things."

"The accused always are when they get to claim their innocence and I'm guessing that's all he did."

Mort nodded. "Said she was drugging him and did it to herself to frame him."

"You believe it?"

Mort didn't reply.

"You're not sure." Ken frowned. "You love the woman and you're not sure?"

"He was convincing."

"So is any good actor. No wonder she did a disappearing act."

"Hey, you're supposed to be on my side."

"I'm just trying to warn you, if you're wrong, you'll regret it for a very long time."

"Believe me, I already regret it." Mort sighed.

"So, if you're not here for her to be found and not so you can find out about him..."

"I never said that. Making sure he can never get to her again would be nice so if those friends of yours could make sure he doesn't..."

"Alright. Is that it?"

"Shooter's back."

"Mort…"

"I'm serious. He put his hands on me."

Ken frowned. "Really?"

Mort pulled back his scruffy hair to show the bruise on the side of his forehead. "I would say so."

"What happened?"

"He pushed me down a hill and I hit my head."

"He say anything?"

"I was looking for Dylan and his voice came out of nowhere but I couldn't see him then all of a sudden, I turn and he pushes me."

"When you heard him, he say anything about the book?"

"Not a word."

"Unusual. Why come all the way out to you only to push you and then not make sure you're dead?"

"I can't answer. I have no idea."

"Look, I'm good with criminals but this guy…Mort, I can't figure it out. He pops up at random and the last couple of times he's done it, he hasn't even mentioned the book."

Mort had to admit, he couldn't understand it either. "I don't know. All I know is I can't do it anymore. I don't want to spend the rest of my life, looking over my shoulder in case he's around."

"You want my advice?"

"It's why I'm here."

"Go to the police…"

"I…"

"Listen to me. I know you don't want to deal with them but go to the police and show them the bruise. Let them know your situation. Take pictures of any bruises, marks, cuts. If he comes around, do everything you can to make sure you get evidence he was there. Record him threatening you, finally get yourself a cell phone and take a picture when you think he won't know. Also, buy a gun."

Mort was sure he'd misheard. "Buy a what, now?"

"A gun. Look, I know it's extreme but it's a precaution. So far, this guy hasn't come inside your house but if he comes on your land, it'd be a pretty good way to scare him off."

"And put myself in jail."

"The entire point of self-defence in the home is proving it was justified to shoot the gun. If the police know this guy is harassing you, it'll do you a favour if it comes down to it. You're not going to shoot the guy if you see him in town, are you? No. This is worst case scenario. You're in bed asleep one night, you hear a noise downstairs, you go to look and the guy is looking for you with an axe."

"You definitely know how to make a guy feel better, Ken."

"Mort, this guy's appearances are random, no one can be around you twenty-four, seven. Not me and not the cops. If this guy is a threat to your life, self-defence is more logical than hoping he'll change his mind."

"I just…Having a gun…"

"What's the problem? A lot of people have guns; it doesn't make them cold blooded killers."

"I know that." Mort said. "I had a gun."

"Had?"

"I got rid of it. A few weeks ago."

"Why would you do that?" Ken frowned. "Did you not think it might be handy to have with Shooter around?"

"Dylan asked me to get rid of it. She hates that stuff."

"That stuff might save your life and hers if she comes back."

"If." Mort sighed.

"Mort, I've been to your place, I've been around the town. No one's seen Shooter. The guy's like a ghost. It's just you and that girlfriend of yours that have seen him and that means, he's in control when he wants to be. He hasn't slipped up once. You can't take any more chances."

Mort stayed silent, not correcting Ken. Not even Dylan had ever seen Shooter.

_If I get another gun, she'd hate me._

_Yeah well, she's not around. She ran off._

_It's just me now._

* * *

Mort was lazing on his couch, feeling sorry for himself and thinking back to his visit at the prison. That's all he'd thought about lately. Seeing Dylan after the call, he found it hard to believe she was the villain. Mort had never seen someone so scared and he'd pointed a gun in peoples' faces before.

_Great. More gun thoughts._

Mort tried to stop thinking about that and went back to his conversation with Ryan. He'd called Dylan a liar and given some quite good examples but Mort still didn't trust him one bit. The question was, did he trust Dylan?

_"She told me she was home-schooled."_

_"Oh, really? Look up…What was it again? James Clover High School Yearbook. There should be a copy lying around the old house if she hasn't burned it to keep up her little ploy. The attic or basement or somewhere. She's in there, sweet as pie."_

_"Where did she grow up?"_

_"What's the street called? Grange Street, I think. Her parents still live there. Why? What did she tell you?"_

Mort frowned suddenly.

_Grange Street._

_Her parents still live there._

On one hand, it'd be great if it was true because it could help Mort find her if he found out where her parents lived. She could even be there herself and if not, told them where she was. On the other hand, if they did live there, it would prove that Ryan was right and Dylan had lied to him.

_Only one way to find out._

* * *

"There's someone at the door!"

"Oh, really?" Sam called from his position in the living room, reading a paper into the kitchen where his wife was making dinner. "I was wondering where that knocking was coming from."

"If you got off your ass and answered the door, you might find out."

Sam sighed and got up to answer the door instead of responding to his wife. He opened the door and frowned, seeing a stranger on the other side.

"Can I help you? If you're selling something, we don't want it."

"No, I'm not selling anything. I'm looking for Dylan Saunders' parents?"

Sam frowned. "I'm her father. Did something happen to her?"

"Mister Saunders, I'm Mort Rainey. I…"

"You're that guy she's been seeing, the writer, the one she's been living with but won't let us meet."

"Yeah, it's just…"

"Why are you here? If you didn't consider meeting us before you began shacking up with my daughter, I doubt it's out of courtesy now."

Well, this wasn't what Mort was expecting. Dylan always painted her parents as laid back. This man seemed anything but. Deep frown lines, aged tanned skin which told Mort he'd spent a lot of his time working outside, slicked back greying hair and quite a stern expression.

"Mister Saunders, I'm here because I'm looking for Dylan."

The man's harsh expression dropped. "What do you mean you're looking for her?"

"I thought she might be here."

"She obviously isn't! Why isn't she with you?"

"It's a little complicated…"

"Well, you ain't leaving until you tell me so you might as well come in." He said, moving to the side to let Mort in. Mort walked inside and Sam closed the door. "And if this story consists of you doing anything to my daughter to make her run away, you won't be leaving too quickly and I'll know if you're lying to me, are we clear?"

"Yes, sir." Definitely not what Mort was expecting.

"Good, then come in and explain how you lost my daughter."

Mort followed Sam into the kitchen where there was a woman making dinner. Now this was more of what he was expecting. Little plants everywhere that looked like they were ingredients instead of decoration, the kitchen itself smelled like lavender and the woman inside it looked like she belonged in one of those herbal stores that sold love potions and told people's fortunes in the back. Mort had always hated those places. The woman herself had long, thick blonde hair just like Dylan had when Mort first met her. It was tied back messily as she worked at the counter. She was a slim woman, wearing a long dress with an apron over it. Mort noticed how she had long, tapered fingers, adorned with big rings that had coloured stones and a lot of bracelets. She was actually exactly how Mort had imagined her which made him feel better. It did pose the question though, if Dylan's mother was the way she described, how had she gotten with Dylan's father? The woman turned and Mort could see Dylan's features in the woman, the same eyes and mouth. She looked at him a lot more kindly than Sam had.

"Oh, hello. Sam, who's this?"

"Mort Rainey." Sam replied.

"Oh, Dylan's new boyfriend?" She beamed. She had a very airy, soft voice which Mort had to admit, was probably quite calming to listen to at times. He knew from experience because whenever Dylan was trying to be understanding and helpful, she had the same voice. When he told her about his drinking problem, she had that soft voice.

"He ain't new; she's just been hiding him."

"Nice to meet you." Mort said to Dylan's mother as Sam sat down.

"Nice to meet her? You don't even know her name yet."

"Sam, shut up being yourself. It's your fault you didn't introduce me. Constance Saunders." The woman wiped her hands off her apron and walked over to Mort, taking his hand. "It's nice to meet you too. Is Dylan with you?"

"No, she isn't." Sam said before looking up at Mort. "And you're going to sit down and tell me why."

Mort sighed and sat down at the table. "A few days ago…"

"She's been missing for days?" Sam asked angrily.

"Dylan's missing?" Constance said, her face paling.

"And you're only telling us now?" Sam continued.

"I didn't know where you lived until now. I've been looking for her everywhere. I remembered Dylan mentioning this street so I came here." He lied. "I thought she might be staying with you."

"Well, she's not. We thought she was with you." Sam said. He turned to Constance. "I told you we should have met him."

"Well, Dylan was just getting back to normal; I didn't want to go against what she wanted."

"The last guy she wanted tried to kill her. Now this guy sent her running off into thin air."

"I didn't actually cause…" Mort began but was cut off.

"I think Dylan is smart enough not to let history repeat itself." Constance argued back. "She doesn't trust easily anymore but she trusted him."

"And look where it got her! Missing!"

"Excuse me!" Mort said loudly, causing the two of them to look at him. "Excuse me, if you heard what happened, it might help?"

"What happened?" Constance asked.

"A few mornings ago, she got a phone call in my cabin. It was from…Him." Mort didn't know if he should say his name in front of them.

"What?" Sam said, standing up quickly. "I'm calling the police."

"I have someone already taking care of it." Mort replied.

"The police?" Constance asked.

"Not exactly. A private investigator. He knows a few people who work in the prison so he can make sure Dylan doesn't get anymore of those calls without having to go through the official channels the police would have to."

Sam sat back down. "What did she do?"

"She was terrified. I tried to calm her down, told her I would change the number but she said there was no point if he knew where she was. She said she wasn't safe and had to leave. I thought I convinced her not to but the next morning, I woke up and she was gone."

"No letter? Nothing?"

"She left a letter but it just said she couldn't stay there. She turned her phone off so I can't call her. I just…I don't know what to do."

"Call the police and send out a missing person's report?"

"I considered it but Dylan wasn't taken, she left and doesn't want to be found. If I get onto the police about it, an investigation about her going missing will be on the news and he could see it and so could she."

"Good, maybe it'll knock some sense into her."

"If she sees it, she'll consider the fact that he'll see it. When a missing person is found, it's always reported. He'll see that too. She'll know that. She might call the police and say she's fine but we'll never find her because she won't trust anyone. If I get Ken on it and she feels like she's being followed because she will be, it'll only send her further into hiding."

"You've thought about this a lot, haven't you?"

Mort sighed. "It's all I've been thinking about. I was hoping she was here but if she wasn't, I guess I have to let you two do what you think is right."

"Thanks for the permission." Sam said sarcastically.

"That's enough, Sam." Constance huffed. "Would you prefer he didn't care about her at all? We wouldn't even know if it weren't for him and from the sounds of it, he's done everything right so stop being so horrible all the time."

Mort was surprised. He didn't think he'd prefer Dylan's mother to Dylan's father but right now, he really liked this lady. Dylan's father on the other hand? Mort could do without ever having to talk to him again. The way things were going, that could be possible.

"Look, I understand that you're going to do what you feel is right regardless of what I say but I'd still like to be involved in finding her." He said, trying to keep onto his patience.

"How did he even find out where she was?" Constance asked.

Mort didn't know how to reply. "I don't know."

"Well, no offence, Mister Rainey," Sam said, trying to be a little less hostile but still trying to put his foot down. "But when Dylan is found, there's not a chance in hell I'm letting her go home with you." Sam said.

Mort frowned. "What?"

"If he's got someone following her around your town and you didn't notice and then he finds out she's with you, I can't let her stay there."

"I…I don't think she was being followed." Mort said.

"How else would the sick bastard know where to call? No, I need my daughter to be where she feels safe and that obviously isn't with you."

"Look, I love your daughter. We were looking to buy a house together and…"

"This soon?" Sam frowned. "How long have you two been seeing each other?"

"A couple of months."

"Are you two insane?"

"Impulsive has been the word we're using…"

Sam looked back at Constance. "She gets this from you. Running off and making decisions before she even thinks about how stupid they are."

"I'd hardly call it stupid…" Mort mumbled.

"Dylan has always done what makes her happy." Constance huffed. "I will gladly take credit for that."

"And now she's in hiding because of her decisions."

"Look," Mort said, cutting them off again. "I really think this discussion could be held off until Dylan is found?"

Sam got up and walked into the next room without a word.

"I'm sorry about him." Constance said. "I hope you can understand why he worries so much about her."

Mort nodded but didn't say anything. To be honest, he was getting pretty tired of everything. "I'm just gonna go."

"You don't have to…"

Mort stood up, knowing she was only being courteous. "I do. I need to…Feed my dog." He made up.

"Then at least give us your number so we can call you with any news."

Mort considered it for a second before nodding.

A few days later, Mort was just getting back to the cabin after a walk. He didn't know if Chico had sensed his mood but the dog had even come with him and that was unusual for Chico. Though, to be honest, it was unusual for Mort but it had been a nice day and with everything in his life at the moment not so nice, he decided a walk along the lake would clear his head. He frowned when he walked up the porch to hear his phone ringing. No one had called him in days, not a soul and for the first time since Dylan had come into his life, he preferred that no one wanted him.

He didn't rush to get inside to answer it but he did get over to the phone before it stopped ringing.

"Hello?"

"Mister Rainey? Sam Saunders here."

Mort was surprised. "Mister Saunders? Did you find her?"

"She's back here now. I thought I should let you know."

"Well, that's good news." Mort said. He tried to think of what was the proper thing to say next. "Is she alright?"

"She's fine, just shaken, mostly."

"Can I…I mean, if I went there...Does she want me to see her?" Mort didn't know why but he dreaded a positive answer more than a negative one. What the hell would he say to her if he went to see her? He wanted to be mad but he also realised it was his fault Ryan ever found out where she was. That being said, she didn't know that and he wanted to find out what had been going through her head that she didn't think he might have cared.

"I don't think so."

With that answer, Mort sighed. How had this happened? How had it gone from them being completely happy to him being angry with her and then her not wanting to see him and him hoping for it?

_Because she lied about so many things._

_If you believe Callaghan, which you can't do._

_He was right about some things. She did lie about where she grew up and her parents._

"Mister Rainey, are you there?"

"Oh yeah, sorry." Mort said. "Look, I really need to see her."

"If she doesn't want to…"

"Alright. Could you just…Could you just let her know I would like to see her? That I'm worried about her?"

"I will."

"Thanks."

Mort hung up the phone and sat down, feeling more frustrated than ever. He decided if he couldn't do anything productive in his personal life, he might as well use his pent up agitation to write out something good.

He had been writing for a while when the phone rang again. He walked down and answered it.

"Hello?"

"Mort? It's Constance Saunders."

"Mrs Saunders?" He frowned.

"Constance is fine. Look, I'm calling because…Well, I think you should come see Dylan."

That took Mort by surprise. "Really? Your husband said she didn't want…"

"Dylan hasn't said anything, for or against you seeing her. Sam is just…He's a bit overprotective of her which I'm sure you can understand."

"Of course."

"I just think it might do her some good to see you. Why don't you come by tomorrow?"

"What if she doesn't want to see me?"

"She's big girl, she can tell you herself. I just think you deserve to be heard out after all the effort you went to finding her. I'm sorry the family's been a bit…Uncaring of all you've done, Dylan included."

"Thank you." Mort said, only now realising how angry he actually was, not just tired or worried but angry with the entire family for not giving a damn that he might actually care about what happened to Dylan. Even herself, she couldn't have given him one phone call, letting him know she was okay? Maybe this was just the wakeup call he needed to realise how careless he'd been all along. What if he and Dylan had gotten a house together? Got married? Had kids? Would she have maintained her lies the entire time and run off without a word when she felt she had to?

_What the hell was I thinking going so fast?_

One thing he did know, he wasn't putting up with it anymore. He was going to see her whether she wanted it or not and if she didn't have a good argument to back up her actions, he wouldn't be seeing her anymore.

_I'm not being a fool anymore._

* * *

Dylan was sitting on a chair by her window of her old bedroom with her curtains drawn. Her parents had gone out a while ago but she refused to join them. To be honest, she felt like a little kid again and she didn't like it but until she didn't feel scared all the time, she didn't know what else to do. Since she didn't know how to cope in the real world, she had decided to just read and try to get her mind off things. She was distracted though, when she heard the door downstairs open.

"Are you guys back already?" She frowned, calling down.

When no answer came, her heart started beating quickly. She got up and walked slowly over to her door.

"Hello?" She called. When there was still no answer, she went to open her door. She swung it open and jumped as she saw Mort just about to knock.

"Oh my God!" She said, her hand going to her heart. She looked up at him, shocked. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you." Mort said as if it were obvious. "I know that might not have been what you wanted but…"

Dylan frowned. "What?"

"Though, apparently you running off and ignoring people who care about you about isn't anything new."

"Oh my God," Dylan said, walking back into the room. "We're still having the fight? Seriously?"

"Oh no, we're having a whole new one now." Mort said, following her in. "We're having the fight where you explain how you can act like such a cold-hearted bitch and not have a qualm about it."

"Are you crazy?" She asked.

"Yeah, look, I know you were scared but that didn't mean you had to run off without a word! You didn't even try calling me to let you know you were safe!"

Dylan looked at him, shocked. "I have tried calling you for days to let you know where I was! Either the phone would ring out, be unplugged or the minute you heard my voice, you hung up! I didn't think you cared!"

"You're seriously trying to pawn that shit off on me? Do you think I'm stupid?"

"Mort, I'm telling the truth!"

"Don't you dare! You lied to me about everything!"

Dylan frowned. "What are you talking about? I've never lied to you about anything!"

"Oh, really? You told me you were home schooled, not true. You told me you and your family lived in some weird hippy shit, not true. You lied about every aspect of your past."

Dylan was looking at Mort as if he was speaking a different language.

"What? You have no argument now?"

Dylan was still looking at him oddly. "Mort, have you been drinking?" She asked seriously.

Mort frowned. "What?"

"Just tell me the truth, it's okay if you did."

"What? No! Why the hell are you asking me that?"

"Because Mort, I never said any of those things to you."

Mort looked at her for a second, not understanding. "What are you talking about? Yes, you did!"

"No Mort, I've never told you anything about my past in high school or where I grew up."

"Dylan, as true as I'm standing here, you told me those things! It was the same morning you told me about the police wanting to question you some more about the alibi."

Dylan walked up to him, taking his hands in hers, more worried for him than she was for herself. "Mort, listen to me. I didn't say those things."

"Dylan, I remember! You were sitting in the kitchen and when I came back from getting the mail, I asked how you get yours. You said it gets sent to your office."

"I remember that."

"Then you started talking about all these different places you lived and how you've been working since you were sixteen."

"Yeah…"

"And then you started talking about school."

"No." Dylan shook her head.

"Yes!"

"No, Mort. That's not what happened. You got that weird look on your face when you get a burst of inspiration and you ran up to your computer."

"No, we stayed talking."

"No, we didn't. You were mumbling to yourself at your desk but you always mumble to yourself when you're writing. You ran off for about fifteen minutes and when you came back, you asked about why I travelled around so much and I told you it was because I felt restless and that I didn't settle down until I met Ryan. Then we started talking about moving my stuff out of the house."

Mort shook his head. "No…"

"Mort, I remember that conversation." Dylan frowned. "I never said anything about my parents or school."

_"Is there anywhere you haven't lived?"_

_"Em…let's see…Paris for a while, London, Australia…"_

_"You lived in Australia?"_

_"For a summer when I was a teenager. Well, I worked in Australia for a summer when I was a teenager."_

_"Worked?"_

_"Yeah…" Dylan said tentatively. "I've been working since I was sixteen."_

_She saw that familiar glint in his eye. "You have an idea for a story, don't you?"_

"_I'll be right back."_

_Dylan smiled and nodded as he ran off and she continued to read the newspaper in front of her until he came back down._

"_Sorry about that, I had to write it down before I forgot it."_

"_Don't worry, I understand." She said. "Can I know what it was?"_

"_Not a chance."_

"_Fair enough." She smiled. "So what were we talking about?"_

_Mort frowned. "I…I can't remember."_

"_Oh, about my hectic life as a jetsetter." She shook her head. "I'm making it sound a lot more impressive than it is. They were basically just vacations. I spent every penny I had and then came home broke and had to live off my parents."_

_"Why did you travel so much instead of trying to settle down here?"_

_"I felt locked in here." She shrugged. "I didn't like it. So I left and went everywhere I could. Then I settled down when I met…when I got older."_

Dylan didn't know what version Mort was thinking about. "Mort?"

Mort was looking a bit helpless at the moment. "I have to go."

He hurried out of the house and got into his car, driving back to the cabin. The long journey consisted of him trying to muddle through the memories of conversations with her but the more he tried, it was like the foggier they became.

_But…No. I remember her saying these things._

When Mort finally got back to the cabin, he hurried upstairs and checked his computer. He checked all the files but they were all things he had written and remembered writing, nothing there was written when that conversation should have been taking place. Mort sat back, scouring every section of his desktop. His eyes became fixed on one folder.

_Recycle Bin._

He didn't know what made him open it, he just remembered that time he found a file he hadn't written or saved on his computer and deleted it. When he opened the folder, he was in shock.

_There's enough here for an entire book._

He didn't remember any of this. He hadn't written all these things, had he? He restored all the documents and started reading through them one by one, his heartbeat getting faster by the second. He felt sick when he came across it.

His conversation with Dylan.

Except it wasn't ever a conversation he had with Dylan, it was the backstory of a character he had no recollection of writing. A young woman who took revenge on her old lover by faking her own murder and having him pinned for it. The twist was she was still alive and the ending turned the victim into some manipulative, evil sociopath causing conflict in the audience for trusting the villain and turning their backs on the good character. Everything he had thought true of Dylan was now part of this character. The fucked up past, the seemingly kind and gentle disposition, even drugging the boyfriend's meals was in the story, the missing time causing the character to think he was going crazy, a second personality filling up the misplaced time.

Mort read on and felt completely sickened.

It was some of his best work. He really hadn't written anything this good in a long time. If he took it to a publisher tomorrow, he knew it'd become a book and it'd be a terrific comeback for him. It really was one of the best books he'd ever written.

And it was about his girlfriend being a psychopath.

And he had absolutely no recollection of ever writing a word of it.

* * *

**Well, now you've met Dylan's parents! And Mort's realised he could be going crazy! **

**Sorry for the long update, my life is full of annoying commitments like college and work. Blah.**

**Thanks for reading! Please Review!**


	24. Control

**Chapter 24**

"Mort? Are you in there?"

After days of trying to call him and not getting an answer and worrying about him, Dylan had decided to put her own fears aside and go up to the cabin. She had decided not to use her key but to knock on the door instead. Only when she got no answer, she began to worry.

She tried to look through the windows but the curtains had been pulled.

_What is going on?_

She was even more confused when Chico came around the corner from the back of the house and up onto the porch to her. "Chico?" She was beginning to get a very bad feeling. She saw that as Chico got her attention, he started scratching on the door. Dylan took her keys out of her bag quickly and opened the door. She felt a sudden heat hit her skin once inside the cabin. A door or window hadn't been opened in days and with every window covered, the entire cabin had a musty, smothering quality. There was no sign of Mort anywhere.

"Mort?" She called into the cabin. "Are you in here?"

There was no answer.

Dylan walked into the kitchen and saw the same amount of mess. There was food all over the floor and at the moment, Chico was eating it, his own food bowl empty. "Oh my God…"

Dylan filled his bowl up with dog food and Chico hurried over to it. She did the same with his water bowl. She was cleaning up the kitchen when Mort walked in the front door. He looked terrible, like he hadn't slept in days, he obviously hadn't shaved or probably showered and he didn't even see her as he went to run up the stairs.

Dylan hurried out of the kitchen. "Mort!"

Mort stopped and turned. "Dylan, what are you doing here?"

"What's going on here?" She asked. "Why is this place in such a mess? Why are the windows covered?"

"I've been writing. Can't stop now."

"You can't stop? Not even to, say, feed your dog?"

"Chico? He's fine."

"You know what's not fine? This." She held up an empty bottle of Jack Daniels. "You're drinking again?"

"Yeah," He shrugged. "Who gives a fuck?"

"I do." She said incredulously.

"You haven't been here. You left."

Dylan looked at him, shocked. "Mort…"

"Now you can leave again."

Dylan looked at him angrily. "Fine, but I'm taking Chico with me."

"What? No, you're not. Chico's my dog."

"Chico hasn't been given any food or water in days."

"He's got a huge fucking lake right outside!"

"Oh my God…" Dylan put her hand against her forehead. "You promised me! You promised me if you slipped again, you'd get help!"

"I don't need help; I need you to get the fuck out of my house which you should be more than capable of doing considering you've done it before."

"This is all because I left? If you cared so much, you shouldn't have kept hanging up on me!"

"I don't remember you calling!"

"I wonder why!" She said, holding up the bottle again. "Please, just talk to me."

"Talk about what? What do you want to talk about?"

"About why you just dropped me from your life and decided whiskey was a better partner instead?"

"Oh I'm sorry, I thought you were the one who ran out of here, not me."

Why can't you understand that I was terrified? I'm sorry, Mort, but I was! You know, you're not perfect either."

"Obviously." He said, gesturing around him.

"But you were to me." She said. "I didn't care that it took you forever to tell me you wanted to be with me or that you wouldn't sign your divorce papers without me having to tell you I wouldn't be with you unless you did. I stuck around all through your ex-wife's crazy vendettas because you were more important to me. I did things for you I never would have done for anyone else because I hoped that, maybe, you were the person I'd spend my life with and I make one mistake and you do this?" Dylan frowned.

This made Mort stop talking or answering back.

"It's not fair." She said.

"What do you want from me?" He asked.

"A reason to stay!" She said desperately. "Or do you want this to be over?"

Mort sighed and sat on the stairs, running a hand over his mouth. "I don't know."

"You don't know?" She repeated incredulously. "You don't love me anymore?"

"Of course I do." He said. "But I don't know what's going on anymore, with me or with you."

"Me? I want things to go back to the way they were before this started happening but that's not possible now."

"Why not?"

"Because I came here to try and talk to someone I love and I found some drunken guy trying to throw me out of his house." She said.

"Just the same as the first time we got together. Maybe it's just what we need."

Dylan didn't find the charm in it like Mort was trying to. "Talk to me. Please."

"I can't!" He said loudly. "I don't even know what to think, let alone how to explain it."

"About what? Mort, you ran out on me a week ago because you couldn't remember a conversation we had. Is it about that?"

"That did freak me out, I'll admit."

Dylan walked over and sat on the stairs too. "Mort, people forget things all the time. So you thought you knew something about my past, you might have got mixed up with something else you heard or a character idea or something."

Mort looked at her quickly at the mention of that.

"Is that it?" Dylan asked. "You just got confused?"

It was much more than that; an entire book's worth. "Dylan, I want you in my life more than anything but right now, my life isn't somewhere I want you to be."

"I don't…I don't understand." She stammered. "If you want to be with me, then why can't you be?"

Mort was silent.

"Look, we…We need to talk." Dylan said. "Unless you don't want to, unless you want me to leave now and for that to be that."

"That's not what I want." Mort sighed. He'd been digging himself into this hole for days and he didn't know how to get himself out of it. The way he'd done it before was to be with Dylan. He knew this time it was different, the issue was his perception of her. He did need to talk to her though. He needed her help. "I want us to talk."

"Okay." She nodded. "Look, why don't you go upstairs and take a shower and I'll make something to eat? You look half starved."

Mort couldn't resist smiling a little. "You're already trying to take care of me?"

"It's what I do." She smiled. "I'm going to go into town, get some stuff. I'll try and be back as soon as I can."

"I'll be okay, Dylan. I'm not going to crack open another bottle in the twenty minutes you're gone." He said though he didn't trust himself. This talk was going to be incredibly unpleasant.

"I know." She got up from the stairs. She placed her hand against his cheek, stroking his skin with her thumb. "I'll be back soon."

She left the cabin and Mort put his head in his hands.

"You gonna need to get rid of her, Mister Rainey."

Mort shut his eyes tighter. "Shut up."

"Keeping her around is going to cause a lot of trouble."

"You are not real!" Mort shouted at Shooter but refused to open his eyes. He wasn't real so Mort shouldn't have been able to see him but he knew he would if he looked up. "I just made you up! You're in my head!"

"That's exactly where I am, Mister Rainey." Shooter's voice sounded louder. "If you let me out, I could do exactly what I need to. Change the ending."

"I had a fine ending. I was fine! Then, you came back and ruined everything!"

"I came back because everything was ruined, Mister Rainey, not the other way around. I only come by when you need me."

"I don't need you! I never need you!"

"Then why did you create me? To do the dirty work you couldn't."

"I never wanted to kill Amy!"

"That's not true and you know it." Shooter said. "You wanted to punish her, and Ted. You wanted both of them to suffer like they made you suffer."

"Not anymore, not since Dylan…"

"Came along and abused your newly regained trust? She's put you through more hell than I have. At least I try to help you. The only good thing she's done for you is give you the inspiration for that book."

"I didn't write that book."

"Alright then, she gave us the inspiration for that book. She took away my zeal for my proper ending and gave me a whole new tome to work with instead."

"That book has nothing to do with her."

"Then she ain't needed, is she?"

"You only want her gone because if she isn't in my life, I'll have nothing and you'll win."

"I've already won, Mister Rainey."

* * *

"Thanks."

Dylan put the basket on top of the counter and began taking things out for Greta Bowie. She was trying to ignore the looks coming her way.

"Haven't seen you around here lately," A man who Dylan never saw away from that counter the couple of times she'd been in here, said. "Miss…Saunders, was it?"

"Dylan is fine." She replied, not taking notice of anything else.

"Dylan…How is Mort Rainey these days?"

"Fine." She answered shortly. "I'll tell him you asked."

"It's just we haven't seen him around town lately, except the odd time when he's buying…"

"Whiskey?" She finished. "That's for me, I like going on drinking binges which is probably why you haven't seen me around much, they really take their toll. Poor Mort's been having a hell of a time trying to bring me round but I just can't resist slugging back those bottles from time to time. How much?"

"That'll be twenty-twenty five." Greta Bowie said, not seeming amused by either of the people in the conversation.

Dylan handed over the money and took the brown bag. "Thank you."

She left the shop and returned to her car.

_I can finally see why he doesn't like these people._

* * *

Dylan was surprised when she walked back inside the cabin and instantly heard glass crunch under her shoe. She looked down and saw the Jack Daniels bottle she'd been holding a while ago was now in pieces on the floor.

"What the…?" She looked around. "Mort?"

There was no answer so she put the food on the couch and walked up the stairs. "Mort, where are you?"

She looked in the bedroom and into the bathroom but he wasn't there. He wasn't in the house.

She walked downstairs again and out the backdoor where she found Mort sitting on the ground, looking out at the lake.

"Mort? What are you doing out here?"

"Getting some fresh air. I needed it."

Dylan walked over and sat down next to him. "Okay, how are you feeling?"

"Like a massive failure."

Dylan put her hand on his arm. "You're not a failure. You're just…Going through a rough patch. It happens to everyone, Mort. It's happening to me too. If I thought what I did would have this effect on you…I'm so sorry. I've been completely selfish."

"It's not you." He said. "If you had never come into my life, I'd have gone insane; I'd be dead right now."

It may have sounded overdramatic but it was completely true. If Dylan had never given Mort a second chance, Shooter would have won and a lot sooner. But Dylan had come along. She was in Mort's life and that meant he could win. If she stayed.

"I'm sorry for the things I said." Mort sighed. "Cursing at you and…I should have never called you a bitch or…"

"It's okay." Dylan said. "We've both been a little crazy lately."

Mort had a feeling he'd been more crazy.

"Come on," She said, standing up. "Let's get back inside, it's cold."

Mort stood up too. "Okay."

He was surprised when Dylan took his hand as they walked inside.

She turned to him when they were in the cabin. "Listen, I know you may not want to but why don't you lie down for a while, upstairs? I think you could use it." She left out the last part about sleeping off the alcohol.

"You come all the way out here to talk and I go for a nap?"

"Hey, don't talk down naps." She smirked. "To be honest, my hands are itching to work on that cabin. I'll never focus unless I clean this place up." She admitted, giving him a guilty smile.

"I can't ask you to do that."

"Mort, have we met? It's like my mission in life to take care of things like this." She went to the kitchen and poured him a big glass of water before rooting something out of the grocery bag. She walked back over to him and handed them both over. "Water and aspirin. You're going to need them."

Mort realised what she was doing. "You're drying me out."

Dylan hesitated before nodding. "You're drinking again and we made a promise to each other. I'm going to help you and you're going to help yourself. Now, go lie down and when you wake up, I'll have this place cleaned up and we can talk with clear heads."

Mort couldn't believe she was doing this for him. Amy had never been this helpful or supportive. Dylan wasn't yelling at him or chastising him, she was just helping.

"This isn't going to be easy." He said. "I can already feel myself wanting…"

"Go lie down and I will be here when you wake up."

Mort wasn't sure if he should kiss her and Dylan wasn't sure if she should expect him to or if he did try, to let him. Their conversation wasn't over by a long shot; they were just trying to make it eloquent instead of shouting at each other all the time. Mort ultimately decided against it and walked upstairs. Dylan sighed and walked over to the windows, opening the curtains and windows. The sun was going down by now but at least there was a little light and air getting in. She then walked into the kitchen to grab a dustpan to clean up the shattered glass.

Once that was done, she began cleaning up the rest of the cabin. She had mopped and swept the floors, looked up the internet on quitting drinking while waiting for the floors to dry, thrown out the garbage, washed the dishes, thrown out old newspapers and other discarded junk, washed the walls and the stairs and dusted the surfaces before Mort got back downstairs.

"Wow, you work fast." He said.

"I just like keeping busy." She replied. She looked around. The place was still a bit of a mess but there were some things she couldn't fix like scratches all over the wood in the cabin. "How are you feeling?"

"Hung-over. Awful." He sighed. "I want a drink."

"Well, here." Dylan went to the fridge and took out an ice cold glass of water before handing it to him.

"Water? Not really what I meant."

"I know but it's all you're getting. It's all that's here. I threw it all out."

"You did what?" Mort frowned.

"You will never get better if you depend on alcohol. Even just knowing it's there if you want it is depending on it."

"But I can't…"

Dylan cut him off. "Mort, do you want to do this right?"

"I just…"

"Do you?"

Mort sighed. "Yes."

"Then change your attitude." Dylan shrugged. "Look, you've given up before, you haven't had that long to relapse and I know the next couple of hours, days even, will be hard but I know you can pull through them. Especially since I locked all the doors and windows and hid the keys so you can't run out and get more liquor."

"You're holding me captive here?"

"I wouldn't use those terms…" Dylan said uncomfortably before sighing. "Look, I don't want to dictate what you do but I want to do things right as well. I just don't see what good it'll do if you can simply drive into town and get more alcohol."

Mort sat down. "I feel like a huge failure."

Dylan sat down beside him. "You're not a failure and I am not going to let you think you are. This is something that affects a lot of people and I'm not going to pretend I know why it affects you but I do know you are strong enough to beat it. If you want to do anything, cry, shout, take it out on me; do it, I don't care and I won't hold anything against you. It would be ridiculous of me to commit to staying here and helping you and then not being able to handle what this is going to be. Do whatever you want, just don't feel guilty about this."

Mort looked at her. "Do anything I want?"

"As long as it's not drink alcohol, obviously." She smiled. "But other than that, do whatever you want."

Mort reached over and kissed her, surprising Dylan. She fell into it though as she remembered how great kissing him was and how much she missed it. The kiss was getting more passionate before Mort pulled away.

"You have no idea how much I love doing that again but the way I'm feeling, I will be vomiting at some point and I'd rather it not be in the middle of that."

Dylan laughed a little. "Yeah, good call." She looked into his eyes. "But just so you know, when you're feeling up to it, you can do it again."

Mort smiled. "Thanks."

"I can't guarantee it'll cure a hangover but…"

"And boy, do I have one." Mort sighed, looking at the drink on the table as opposed to her. After he woke up, he felt like someone had gone to work on his head with a jackhammer so he decided to take a shower. That didn't help either. He still felt horrible.

"It'll go away." She reassured. "Soon."

Mort wasn't so sure.

"When was the last time you ate?" She asked.

"I'm pretty sure it wasn't so long ago." Mort replied coyly.

Dylan nodded and got up. "I'm going to go make something to eat."

"You don't have to."

"I meant for myself. Your hands aren't broken, you know." She smirked before going into the kitchen. Mort got up and followed her in.

"What are you making?"

"Grilled cheese." She replied. "Want one?"

"I can do it." Mort said.

"I know." Dylan nodded. She walked away and sat at the table. "You can make mine while you're at it."

Mort smirked and shook his head. "Yes, ma'am."

He took over at the counter and Dylan watched him. She knew the best thing for Mort was to not coddle him, to treat him as normal and try and keep his mind off what he was going through. She knew that wouldn't last, that things were going to get worse but she wanted to keep his good mood last as long as possible. She looked down at Chico to see him relaxing by his food and water bowls. The dog seemed happy enough now, making Dylan remember when Mort got him back from Amy. Mort had seemed so attached to the dog and so pleased to have him back after being so worried.

_That's the Mort I know. That's my Mort and that's who I'm going to help him become again. That Mort was too good to just give up on, he deserves a chance to get back to that person._

"Damnit!"

Dylan looked up quickly when she heard Mort. "What happened?"

He turned slightly so she could see blood. "I cut my hand."

She got up and put some paper towels on the wound. "Here."

"I guess it wasn't my best idea to wield a knife with recovery symptoms." He said, trying to make his voice light.

"I didn't even think…" Dylan sighed. "Come on, I'll bandage it up in the bathroom."

She led him up the stairs and into the bathroom where he sat on the side of the bath and she pulled out the bandages.

"God, I can't even make a sandwich without maiming myself." Mort said. "Great start."

"Don't be so overdramatic." Dylan smiled, trying to joke with him. "A lot of people have done a lot worse to themselves than let the knife slip and that was without alcohol or any vices."

"I don't believe in these vice-less people you speak of." Mort had his own little smile but it was melancholic. "Everyone has something."

"I guess you're right." Dylan shrugged as she bandaged up his hand. "No one's perfect and those who act like it are annoying as hell and how can someone that annoying be perfect? At least you just drink; you don't do anything that harms other people like…Volunteer to be team leader during trust exercises at work."

"God, I hate that kind of bullshit, it's why I work alone. People actually like that sort of stuff?"

"Yeah, they're the worst."

Mort nodded. "Those people and people who volunteer for neighbourhood watch."

"Or the PTA."

"Or people who organise potluck dinners between the entire neighbourhood and if you don't go, everyone starts talking about how anti-social you are."

"Or that type A housewife who judges everyone from her porch as she downs her third glass of wine that day." Dylan smiled as she realised something. "We just described my oldest sister to a T."

Mort was silent for a second. "I'm sure she's lovely."

"You'd be wrong. She's the one who thinks we need to be together twenty-four seven or the family will fall apart. Luckily, you've never met her. You two would hate each other."

"Is she the one married to the cop?"

Dylan nodded. "He's a saint for putting up with her."

Mort frowned. "You and your sister really don't get along, do you?"

"We're just different." She shrugged. "I'd still kill anyone for badmouthing her when she didn't deserve it."

"I thought you were just hiding me from your family because we weren't together that long, I didn't realise it was because the majority of them would disown you for going out with me."

"I wasn't hiding you from them. I was hiding them from you. I'm a big girl, I'll date who I want and I don't care what they think. I cared about what you thought." She finished bandaging his hand and looked up at him. "All done."

Mort looked down at his hand. "Thanks. You don't have to do all this…"

"What can I say? Mothering people without their permission is my vice." She smiled, getting up to put the bandages away. She had to cover her mouth when a yawn came.

"Jesus, I didn't even realise the time." Mort said. "You must be exhausted."

"No, I'm fine." She shook her head.

"Dylan, you can sleep. I'm not going to tunnel my way out of here."

Dylan thought about it. "I'll lie down if you lie down with me."

"I…Are you sure?"

"It's not like it'll be our first time sharing a bed." She shrugged. "Come on."

She took his hand and led him to the bedroom where she lay on the bed. Mort lay down too and felt as Dylan brought his arms to wrap around her from behind.

"Is this okay?" She asked.

Mort sighed, feeling comfortable for the first time in days.

"More than okay."

Dylan was awoken a few hours later by the sound of banging downstairs. She looked around the bedroom to see Mort gone.

"Mort?"

She left the room and walked down the stairs to see the house in a mess again and Mort sitting on the couch, tapping his fingers off his jaw.

"You're looking for the keys." She said.

Mort looked up at her before hurrying to the bottom of the stairs.

"Give them to me."

"No."

"Dylan, give me the keys!"

"No."

"I need…"

"You don't need it! You want it! There's a difference."

"Just give me the damn keys!" Mort shouted.

Dylan walked down the stairs and took the key to the front door out of her pocket. She walked past Mort and over to the table, placing it down. She turned to him. "I'm giving you a choice. One last time. Me or the alcohol. If you choose the alcohol, I won't stop you taking the key and opening the door but I will be walking out it and I won't come back. You will never see me again. If you choose me, you're choosing to stay here to help yourself and help us rebuild our life together. A life where we can love each other and get house and get married and have children. Everything you will never have if you take that key."

Mort was clearly agitated and his hands were shaking as he looked from the key to Dylan and back again. Eventually, he walked past her and took the key, making her close her eyes in disappointment. Mort stood at the front door for a few seconds before leaving out a shout of annoyance at himself.

"I can't do this!" He shouted, turning back to her. "I can't!"

"You can. You just have to be strong." She pressed.

"I'm not strong! I'm weak! I had to create a character to do everything I couldn't! How is that strong?"

Dylan frowned. "Mort? What are you talking about?"

"I just…I want to drink! But I also want you! Why won't you let me have both?"

"Because that's not how life works. You have to make hard choices and this is one of them."

Mort blew past her to sit back on the couch. "I can't think…I can't concentrate…I'm in physical pain!"

"You've done this before." Dylan sat next to him. "I know it's painful now but…"

"Stop telling me things as if you know every detail! You don't!"

Dylan kept silent until Mort put the key on the table.

"Do you want me to take it again?"

"Yes," Mort nodded. "And I want you to unlock the door and walk out of it."

"What?"

"I don't…I don't want you here."

"Doesn't matter, I'm staying."

"Why? Just get out."

"No."

"Please…"

"No."

"Please!"

"I'm not leaving, Mort." She said. "I know if I do, you'll run straight for a bottle."

"Yes, I will and if you're gone, you won't have to worry."

"I will worry."

"Dylan, this is killing me. I'm sick, I'm in physical pain. I can't do this." He said. "Have you ever heard of taking things slowly?"

"Mort…"

"No!" He said, not letting her finish. "I don't care about any rousing pep talk or your self-righteous attitude! I am not some project for you to make yourself feel better about just because you think you're helping! You're not! Dylan, I've given up alcohol before and it's never been this hard!"

"Because how could you have given up before? You always go back to it." She said. She wasn't angry or hurt; she'd been expecting him to take it out on her. She just hoped this was as bad as it got. "That's not giving up. It's just waiting until you have to depend on it again."

"And this is different?"

"Yes. You told me Amy was never supportive. I'm trying to be."

"No, you're trying to control me."

"That's not true and you know it, Mort."

"Isn't it? You lock me in my own house…"

"I gave you the key. You can leave whenever you want."

Mort looked at her, aggravated. "Not without throwing in an ultimatum."

"It wasn't an ultimatum, it was just the truth. I can't be with someone who abuses alcohol."

"Dylan…" He said shortly.

"You're the first good boyfriend I've ever had."

Mort frowned, looking at her. "What?"

"You are." She shrugged. "You're the first good boyfriend I've ever had."

"Yeah, I'm a prince." He said sarcastically.

"I'm no kidding." Dylan replied. "Before you, I never had a good boyfriend. I never had one who treated me well or actually cared about me. I convinced myself they did until I couldn't take the cheating or the lying or them trying to kill me anymore. It was like I always chose someone who was too damaged for me or I was too damaged for them and then you came along and you seemed like just the right amount of damaged if that makes sense. You were cynical and sarcastic but you weren't malicious, even before we got together. You never tried to hurt me or treat me badly but you were rude at times." She smiled sadly. "I didn't care that you were a recovering alcoholic because you were recovering. If you've stopped that then I can't be with you and I really want to be with you."

Mort sighed and sat back. He didn't think this day could get any worse. He was her best boyfriend and he was an alcoholic who could see a made up man and was also very possibly, an arsonist.

"How are you feeling?" She asked.

"Like shit."

Dylan had to admit, he didn't look good. He was very pale and had dark circles around his eyes. She didn't know what to do. She'd been making this up as she went along and she didn't know if what she was doing was helping or hurting more.

"I really think you should see someone."

"I'm not going to rehab." He replied quickly.

"I never said rehab but maybe a doctor who can prescribe something for the pain or the withdrawals."

"So I can get hooked on pills?"

"So you can go through this easier."

"This is never easy, no matter what I do or what I take."

"Then what's the harm?"

"For fuck's sake!" Mort stood up quickly and walked away from her. "What do you not understand about the fact that I don't want some stranger prying into my life?"

Dylan looked down at the floor. "I don't know what to do, Mort. I'm just trying to help."

Mort sighed, running his hand over his mouth. "I know but I can't do this, Dylan. My head is splitting, I can't sleep, I'm nervous and I don't know why, I feel sick…"

"I know you don't want to hear this…"

"Jesus…"

"But detox medication will help!" Dylan said. "That's what it's for!"

"If I go to a doctor, I'll be told to go into some therapy bullshit! I'll have a doctor prodding and poking me and asking me my life's story!"

"You don't have to continue therapy if you don't want to! If you don't feel it's helping…"

Mort sat on the coffee table, his head in his hands. Dylan thought he might have been crying but she wasn't sure. "I hate this. I hate that I'm like this."

Dylan looked at him sadly. She didn't know what to say. After a while, Mort lifted his head and Dylan could see his eyes were red.

"You shouldn't have to go through this. You were just a normal person, doing their job and I dragged you into the shit that is my life."

"I would hardly say normal." She shrugged. "I'm really glad I came here to take pictures."

"That has to be a lie."

"It's not." She said. "I love you, Mort. I want to spend my life with you, I want to marry you and live with you and have children with you, I want my life to be with yours." She was crying now. "And if you want to yell at me and scream at me and take your anger out on me, I'll put up with it because once you're better, things will go back to normal and I've never been happier than when I was with you."

Now it was obvious that Mort was shedding tears. "I'll do it."

Dylan looked up at him. "What?"

"I'll do whatever you want me to do. See a doctor, take the medication; I'll do anything to help me overcome this for good."

"Really?"

"I want that life with you and I don't want it to be like the life I had with her. I want the happy marriage and the kids. I don't want this problem I have to ruin the life I could have with you. I love you too much to let that happen."

Dylan reached over and placed her lips against his softly. It was a shaky kiss as both were still quite upset and Mort was still a little unstable. When they pulled away, Mort took her hand that was placed against his cheek.

"I'll get through this for both of us."

"I know you will."

He doubted his promise an hour later.

"I really don't want you seeing this."

"Mort, I grew up in a house with seven girls, three of whom had teen pregnancies, I've been around people throwing up before."

"I don't want...To be one of those people. I would much prefer for you to...Not remember this image."

"I have a bigger memory than this, it'll be fine." Dylan promised.

Mort continued to heave.

He couldn't keep a morsel of food or water down; his body just seemed to be ravaged. Dylan had sat on the couch and let his head rest on her lap as he stroked her hair but she wasn't sure if it was helping. Then the vomiting started and it had been this way for a while.

"Do you want more water?" She asked, not knowing what else to do.

"No." He groaned.

"It'll get better."

"I'm not saying this to be a dick again but please stop saying that. It's too hard to hear when my head is in the toilet."

Dylan sighed. She knew he felt hopeless but she didn't know how to make him realise this was better in the long run. She didn't think he felt the same. She knew he was thinking if he drank, this pain would go away and she was stopping that from happening. She stood up and began to walk out of the bathroom.

"Where are you going?" Mort asked quickly.

"You said you wanted me to leave."

"You're leaving?"

She smiled a little. "Just the bathroom. I'll be out there whenever you're ready."

Dylan walked out of the bathroom and Mort closed his eyes, frustrated with himself. She was trying to help and she was being really good about it. He just couldn't find it in himself to return the favour. He couldn't help being short with her.

"I'm sorry." He called from the bathroom.

"Nothing to be sorry about."

After a while, Mort emerged from the bathroom to see Dylan sitting on the bed with Chico.

"Feeling a little better?" She asked.

"A little, not a lot."

Dylan nodded. "Wanna lie down for a while?"

"Will you lie down with me?" Mort asked, not knowing if he should.

"That depends, have you brushed your teeth?" She joked.

Mort chuckled. "Mouthwash, even."

"Oh well then, how can I resist?"

Dylan took his hand and pulled him to lie on the bed so she could rest her head on his chest. It was hard and uneasy for Mort but eventually, he managed to drop into a restless sleep.

Dylan stayed awake long enough to make sure he was asleep before trying to drift off to sleep herself.

* * *

**Sorry for the extremely long wait. I've been writing this chapter since the last one but I wanted to write an honest depiction of what Mort would be going through and that took a lot of research! Suprisingly, not that much on the internet.**

**Thanks for reading! Please Review!**


	25. Selfless Actions

**Author's Note: **Hey guys, I'm so sorry for such a late update. I honestly didn't realise it was that long until I looked at the last update date yesterday. I have been so incredibly busy with college and work, I haven't had the time to update but at last, here's the next chapter! I hope the next one is up quicker but I can't promise anything. My next day off will be around Christmas.

**Chapter 25**

Mort woke up to a dry, itchy thirst in his throat but no energy to get up to get a drink. It was quite a horrible feeling. He needed water but opening his eyes and getting up seemed impossible. His skin felt so hot, his t-shirt was sticking to him with sweat rolling down his skin. He was hot, parched, his head was throbbing and he was so very tired.

_Yup, this is a hangover._

_This is a very big hangover._

He let out a groan which even hurt his throat. "Oh God…"

He heard the window be pulled up and a breeze rolled into the room from the cold, winter weather but though the cold licked his skin lightly, he was too drenched in sweat to appreciate it. The breeze hit his dry lips and made his thirst even worse.

"There's water on your nightstand."

Mort cracked open one eye though immediately closed it again due to the light but he had gotten a tiny glimpse of Dylan, sitting by the window, a book in her hands.

"Dylan?" His voice sounded surprised that she was in the room.

"Did you forget I was here?" She smiled slightly.

"Kind of. My brain hasn't started working yet. It's mainly begging me to get up and drink something cold."

Dylan walked over to the bed and sat down on the side. "Come here." She helped him up slightly, pulling his t-shirt over his head. Mort had to admit, that did feel a lot better. He was going to lie back down properly but Dylan kept him propped up a little as she took the glass on the nightstand and placed it against his lips. Mort's hand wrapped around the glass to hold it as he gulped it back greedily. It was weird for him to get over one drinking addiction by craving a different type of drink but the water felt too good to resist.

Once the water was gone, he looked up at Dylan. "How long have you been awake?"

"Just an hour or two." She lied. He'd been tossing and turning so much, she'd ended up sleeping in the little armchair in the room and as a result, hadn't actually gotten much sleep at all. She watched over him instead and she did something else, something she had to tell him about. "I made you an appointment."

Mort frowned, sitting up. "An appointment?"

"With a doctor." She clarified. "So he can gauge what the best course of action is for this."

Mort didn't seem thrilled but he didn't seem mad either. "Don't you think I should have done that?" Dylan didn't reply. "You didn't think I would."

"I just know you don't like the thought of it."

"I said I would do it and I meant it. I wouldn't have promised if I was going to back out."

"I know that." She said. "I just wanted to make it a little easier."

He couldn't be annoyed when he looked at her. She genuinely did look like she was trying to help and that was more than he deserved. She could have easily washed her hands of him altogether. "What doctor?"

"Not the one in Tashmore and not mine or yours. I did some quick checking on the internet and this clinic place was recommended."

"Clinic? As in rehab?"

"No, I'm not trying to send you to rehab, it's just a place where they'll look you over and decide what's best. You never know, he could just prescribe some sedatives to help you relax and sleep and send you back here. It's not unusual for doctors to recommend outpatient facilities. You haven't been having hallucinations or anything, have you?"

Mort thought about Shooter. "No."

"That's good. No hallucinations or convulsions or anything, that's good. I know it's only the first day but-"

"Second, isn't it?"

Dylan looked at him sympathetically. "You were drinking yesterday. This isn't going to be easy and it isn't going to be finished in a day so we should do this right. We'll go to the doctor, find out what's what and then we'll go from there."

Mort really appreciated the fact that she was saying 'we'.

"I read that withdrawal symptoms usually last from four days to around a week so we'll just see how things go." She continued. "But the worst thing we can do is pretend this is going to be easy when it's not. We're in for a long, hard week but I don't plan on backing out, do you?"

"No."

Dylan smiled. "So you'll go to the doctor?"

He nodded. "A week? That's all?"

She looked at him sadly again. "The withdrawal symptoms will last for around a week. This struggle isn't ending any time soon."

"Try the rest of my life."

Dylan took his hand. "Our life. When I said I wasn't backing out, I meant from anything."

Mort clenched her hand tighter. "I shouldn't let you stay here."

"Let me stay?" Dylan repeated. "Just try to get rid of me. That'll be interesting seeing as how you can barely lift that glass." She joked.

"I'm more interested in what's in the glass. That I manage all too well." He said bitterly.

Dylan sighed and walked over to the other side of the bed, lying down and facing him. "I'm not going anywhere."

Mort let out a shaky breath. "Why did you come back?" He asked as he ran his fingers through her hair and she closed her eyes.

"Because I love you."

"Still?"

"Still. And I was worried about you." She admitted.

"So you were just coming to check on me and then leave again?"

Dylan opened her eyes and looked up at him.

"I came because I realised how much I care about you." Mort didn't say anything but just looked at her. "I heard about what my father said to you, all the things he said to you. Mort, I'm sorry about him. I had no idea."

"It's fine. He was just being protective."

"He was being awful to you according to my mom which wasn't fair. The way she tells it, you were great."

"Yeah, after hearing stories about your mom, I never thought she'd be the one of your parents I got along with better."

Dylan nodded. "I wish I could say he used to be more laid back but I'd be lying. It's gotten worse though. Ever since what happened, he doesn't trust my judgement or anyone around me. It's why I didn't want you to meet him for so long. He's too overprotective. When I heard about how he treated you, I got so mad…I wanted to leave there straight away, I wanted to see you."

"So you're here to disobey your father? Wow, it only took me how many years after high school to become the bad boy?" Mort joked.

"I'm here because I realised I don't want anyone treating you or talking to you that way. I'm here because I realised you're still the most important thing to me." Dylan got up, sitting cross legged on the bed. "We were buying a house, Mort. We were planning on spending our lives together. What changed?"

Mort knew what had changed. His attitude towards her. He'd gone to see her ex in prison and let it affect everything he thought about her. He couldn't tell her that though, no matter how much she deserved to hear it.

"I guess…Things just went too fast." He said instead, sitting up too. "We did everything way too fast and I don't know about you but…I'm not used to doing things that way. I just got caught up in everything without thinking because thinking too much is usually what ruined things for me."

"I guess you're right. I mean, we were saying I love you a few days after deciding it was too soon to say I love you."

"Well, I don't regret that. I do love you." Mort said.

"I know but the whole getting a house together thing?" She frowned. "That definitely was too fast."

Mort nodded. "I just felt like everything would fall into place finally if I left here."

"Maybe that's still true." Dylan suggested. "But maybe finding somewhere new with me will have to wait. I mean, we decided that it was too soon to live together and then completely ignored that."

Mort sighed. It was true to say that none of that was like him but that's what he'd been striving for, to be different. He wanted to change. Only now he was realising that it wasn't working out for him. It wasn't easy to change who he was, unless it was Shooter doing it. That was another reason he couldn't live with her. She shouldn't have even been here now, it was too much of a risk. What if Shooter took him over and hurt her? He needed to see a doctor, that much was clear but not for his alcoholism.

_How do I tell her that? That I might be crazy?_

_Maybe I don't have to. Maybe if a doctor prescribes something or I go to sessions, it'll work out._

_More secrets from her. I haven't exactly been coping too well with the last one._

_More than one._

"Mort?" Dylan frowned. "Are you alright?"

Mort realised he hadn't been answering her. "Oh, sorry. I was just…Thinking."

"About?"

"About how you're right. Maybe getting out of here, out of Tashmore, might do me some good."

"Maybe." Dylan shrugged. "I just don't know if us living together is a very good idea."

Mort wished he could argue but she was right. If he was going to do this, and properly, he didn't want to involve her anymore than he already had. Especially if he was going to try to get to the root of his Shooter problem. He could only tell her that when the time was right and he was ready and that wasn't yet. If they were living together, she was bound to find out.

_I should be telling her that I need time to myself, that I'm not prepared to be in a relationship right now. How can I be with her while trying to hide this?_

"Dylan..."

She frowned. "What is it?"

"I don't think...I don't know if being in a relationship...Is the best thing for me right now."

She seemed frozen for a second before nodding. "I understand. I can't imagine how hard this is going to be. But I don't want to leave you without help and I still care about you. So maybe...We don't need to be together but we can still be friends. I want to support you through this and then when you're feeling better, we can see where things stand."

Mort sighed. That wasn't even good enough, he needed her to keep her distance for her own sake. He didn't know when Shooter could pop up and if he was going to be emotionally vulnerable all the time, it was incredibly risky. She didn't seem to want to leave though. She wanted to help him.

Mort sat up, knowing how to make her go but hating having to use it. "I went to see him."

Dylan frowned but Mort didn't look at her. "What?"

"I went to see your ex. In prison."

She didn't know if she could believe him but why would he lie? "What? Why? Why would you do that?"

"To ask him questions, like why he did it."

"Because he's crazy, that's why!" She said, getting off the bed quickly.

"He said the same about you. He said you lied about everything, that you faked the whole thing."

"Of course he did! He's always said that! It doesn't make it true!"

"He said that you were putting stuff in his food and that's…"

"Why he couldn't remember anything, yes Mort, I've heard it all before! I can't believe…" She stopped and turned to him. "Is this how he knew how to find me here? Because you told him?"

"I didn't think he'd know you lived here…I didn't think he'd be able to get my number, it's unlisted."

"Is this why you were mad at me?" She asked. "When I had no idea why? Because you went to see him and believed every word? You thought I was going to poison you and frame you?"

"No, I didn't believe him." Mort tried to clarify.

"Then why were you mad at me?"

"I wasn't mad but I didn't know what was going on, what was the truth…"

"You were supposed to believe me!" She shouted, tears in her eyes. "Why did you go to him? Why did you doubt me?"

"I didn't want to but I read an article…"

"An article?" Dylan said. "Just one? Just one out of the dozens there were, all saying different things? Which one was it, huh? Because I've read all of them and none of them get it right!"

"Dylan, I'm sorry."

"What did the article say?" She pressed.

"That the first judge withdrew from the case."

Dylan nodded. "Because I couldn't get my answers straight."

"Because neither of you could."

"Well, let me explain what happened then." She said, turning formal all of a sudden. "Should I start from the beginning or…? I know I've already told you but with all the different versions you've heard, you might have forgotten mine."

"Stop." Mort said, feeling worse than he already had. He didn't think that was possible.

"Stop what? Telling you my side? Apparently I have to."

"I don't want to hear it."

"No, you prefer to read it. Well now you're getting an exclusive."

Mort sighed.

"I panicked on the stand." She said. "I panicked because I didn't know what was going on."

Mort frowned. "What?"

"After the attack, I went to see a therapist."

"You told me you didn't."

"You'll know why in a second. The reason I went to see a therapist was because I didn't have a choice. When I was in hospital, I was kind of in shock. I didn't remember much of the attack so they recommended counselling. I went to see a therapist every day and he worked with me to do some memory recovery techniques or something. The only problem is he started dragging up a lot of memories that weren't there."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, the guy was a hack. He diagnosed me with PTSD, popped me full of sedative-hypnotic pills and then tried to drag up painful past memories that don't exist. I was so out of it, I started to believe them. I got prepped before I went on the stand but by that time, I had a lawyer telling me what was true in one ear and a therapist telling me what was true in the other. I completely crumbled on the stand. Once it happened, my family realised what was going on, took me to another doctor who pointed out that memory recovery techniques like that can be a form of malpractice."

"So the reason you were jittery on the stand was because you were on prescription drugs and being told all different things?"

"I was so tired all the time and the press never left me alone and…I ruined everything. It's only by some grace of God that the retrial was called and by then, my family had realised something was wrong and I was competent enough to know what was happening."

Mort was a little astounded. Her story just kept getting weirder and weirder. "Why didn't you tell me this before?"

"If you thought you were crazy, would you tell someone?" She asked.

It was then that Mort remembered his own story was getting weirder and weirder. "No, but you're not crazy…"

"Imagine having everyone you know and love telling you that what you remember isn't true and that what you think is a lie, wouldn't you feel a little off-kilter?"

Mort didn't reply. How could he? She was right.

"I just…I wanted to leave everything behind me." She said. "But if you keep dragging up the past, I can't. I want someone who will try and make me forget it, not always remind me."

"That's not what I want to do, I don't care about your past." Mort said. He had started this to make her leave but now he felt he had to defend himself. He never wanted to hurt her that badly when he did what he did and he couldn't stand her thinking it. "I believe you and I trust you and I'm sorry that I dragged it all up again. I guess I'm just still a little screwed up after Amy."

_Little being a huge understatement._

Dylan nodded before walking out of the room.

"Dylan, wait." Mort got up and followed her before realising that he should let her go, his plan was working. "Look, if you want to leave…"

"You're damn right I want to leave!" She shouted, looking for her bag.

"Then I won't stop you."

"No, you won't."

She grabbed her bag and went to the door before stopping with her back to Mort who was still on the stairs. He could hear her crying.

"I said I'd stay." She sniffed.

"But if you want to leave…"

"I said I'd stay." She repeated. "And then you told me that. Why?" She sounded helpless. "Why tell me that when I wanted to help you? When I was trying to do something good because I love you? Why make me want to never see you again when I just wanted to see you be okay?"

Mort sighed, feeling even worse than he previously had. "Because you deserve so much better than me. I mean, so, so much better."

"But I wanted you. Does that mean nothing to you?"

"Of course it does." Mort finished walking down the stairs. "Dylan, you're the best thing that happened to me in a very long time but I did something to hurt you and no matter how much I wish I could, I can't take it back. You don't deserve someone like that, you don't deserve someone with my problems. You deserve more."

Dylan finally turned to him, her eyes red and wet . "I'm not leaving. I am staying here and helping you. I promised you we were in this together now and I don't break my promises. I like to think people can have trust in me."

"Dylan…"

"No. I may not want anything to do with you right now but if I walk out that door after promising I'd help you through this problem then you'd have made me into something I don't want to be. I wanted to help you and I told myself I was strong enough to do it. If I storm out when things get hard when I promised I wouldn't, I would hate myself."

"So you're staying here so you can hate me with honour? Dylan, just go. You can still hate me for what I did by storming out."

Dylan frowned at him. "You sound like you want me to hate you."

"I don't want you to hate me but I know what I did was awful."

"So why not just apologise and swear you'll never do something like that again? It's like you told me to get me to leave. If you really cared about me, you'd want me to stay."

"Because that is what I want." Mort finally had to say. "I do want you to leave. I do want to go through this alone. I can't deal with trying to get better and get over my problems while also trying to be someone I would want you to want to be with."

Dylan couldn't understand. "I don't need you to be anyone but yourself. I didn't fall in love with anyone else."

"You didn't fall in love with this." Mort said, gesturing to himself. "I don't know how to be what you wanted anymore and I'm not competent enough to try."

"I don't understand. I fell in love with you, Mort. Just you, the good and the bad. Just because things are rough right now doesn't change the man you are."

"Well, it feels like it."

"It doesn't. But I'm not prepared to forgive you for going to see him, for not believing me. I can't. I don't know what to do."

"Leave."

"Is that what you want?" She asked. "Do you want me to leave? You tried this last night too and it didn't work because you chose for me to stay. Have you changed your mind about what you want or are you just trying to protect me?"

"I want you to leave."

Mort felt awful as Dylan nodding, with tears still in her eyes. "If that's what you want, then I'll go. I thought I could stay through the hard parts but not when you're intentionally trying to hurt me like this."

"Dylan, I'm not doing it because I want to hurt you."

"Why else?"

"I meant, I don't like this. I don't like seeing you so upset, especially when I'm the reason."

"Then why are you doing it?" She cried.

"Because you think that I am the way for you to be happier, to move on with your life but Dylan come on, I am not capable of making anyone happy." Mort said. "Amy didn't have an affair for no reason."

"I am not Amy! I don't know how many more times I can try and make you see that!"

"I know you're not Amy, I never said you were. I just mean that I'm not what you think I am."

"Mort, we were together for months! I know you. I knew you had a drinking problem months ago. I know you get absorbed in your work and sometimes, I have to come second to that even if you don't realise you're doing it. I know you get into bad moods when you get writer's block and you get sarcastic and annoyed and I know not to take it personally. I know all the bad stuff, Mort. Do you really think I was that naive? Everyone has problems and bad points but that does not mean I will spontaneously hate you down the line."

Mort didn't know what to do. "Dylan, that is not what I think, it's not what I'm trying to do. I just don't think I'm the best person for you."

"So you went to visit my ex to use against me so I would leave you? That is a very convoluted way to try and break up with me."

"I did not go visit him so I could use it against you. I never wanted you to find out."

"So why tell me now?"

"Because you keep being so great and you want to stick around when I'm going through this and I don't think you should stay."

"For me or for you?"

"For you."

"I will be fine."

"Like right now?"

"This is because of what you did when you were sober." She said. "Right now, I am liking drunk Mort way more than I am liking sober Mort. At least drunk Mort hated me openly instead of sneaking around behind my back."

"That isn't what I meant to do."

"Just tell me one thing, why now? Why did you start rooting around my past this far in to our relationship? Why did you have to go see him? Why wasn't my word good enough?"

Mort had told the truth so far, he couldn't stop now. "Amy."

"Amy?" Dylan asked incredulously. "Amy made you do it?"

"She was the one who told me about the mistrial."

"When?" Dylan shook her head.

"I went to see her after you were arrested and the gun, to tell her to leave us alone. She told me then."

"And you had to believe her?"

"I didn't, I just…I had to see for myself."

Dylan sighed. "Why didn't you come talk to me about it?"

"I didn't want you knowing I went to see Amy."

"Why? If you were only telling her to stay away…"

"I was." Mort reassured. "After the arrest and her telling you about the gun and everything, I was just trying to get her to stop. Then she started coming out with all these things about the trial and your past and I tried not to listen, I told her I didn't want to hear it and I left. But I was sitting in front of my computer later and I couldn't help myself. I was hoping if I looked it up, I could prove her wrong. If I didn't look it up and she turned out to be lying to turn me against you, she'd always think I believed her. If I looked it up and saw it wasn't true, I could show her up and then she would realise that nothing she could try would work."

"But it did because she was telling the truth." Dylan shrugged.

"No, she wasn't. She said he was innocent and he's not."

"Do you honestly believe that?"

"I do." Mort said seriously.

"I'm so confused." Dylan shook her head. "You told me you went to see Ryan so I would leave you here, alone. Do you care about me or not?"

"I want you to leave because I care about you. You already have so many burdens in your life, I don't want to be another one."

"You know what's a burden, Mort? Having the person you thought you were going to spend the rest of your life with trying to break up with you for no reason. You don't want me to have another burden? What the hell did you think would happen when I walked out of here? I close the door, automatically stop being upset and skip away? I was happy here! I was happy that I could help you, be there for you! I wanted to be the person you could count on, no matter what! You trying to be some martyr to get me out of here just makes me feel awful."

"Dylan, I have a lot going on right now that I need to go through alone."

"Why?"

"I just do."

Dylan nodded. "Fine. If that's what you need..."

With that, she turned and walked out of the house.

* * *

"You alright?"

Dylan shook her head as she lay on her sister's couch. After coming back from Mort's, she decided the one place she could go where she'd get no judgement was Penny's.

"Do you want anything?" Penny asked. She wouldn't judge but she was never very good at being comforting.

"I want to find somewhere to live. I can't keep doing this." She said, sitting up and resting the cushion she had been hugging into on her lap. "I can't keep going from place to place, hoping that I'll find somewhere that feels right. I just need to settle on what I can."

"Dylan, I don't mind you staying here. I'm always travelling with work anyway, I'm never here."

"No, I can't keep imposing on people. I even did it with Mort and look at what happened to him."

"Dylan, what is going on with Mort is not your fault. You said yourself he was a mess when you met him."

"I never said that." She frowned.

"You kind of did. Remember when you told us how you two got together? The guy has problems and it's not your job to fix him. If he doesn't want you around, that's his loss. But I'm serious, you don't need to rush into living somewhere you don't like when I'm happy to have you here."

Dylan was thinking very intently about something. "There's only one place I've only ever felt completely at home in."

Penny frowned before realising what she was thinking. "No, definitely not. You can't."

Dylan looked at her sister. "It's not sold yet. I can."

"It doesn't matter if it's not sold! Dylan, you couldn't even step foot in there after what happened!"

"It's a house and it's mine, I can go back there. I went back there with Mort and after a while, I was fine. Maybe I'll redecorate." She shrugged. "Give it a complete makeover and it won't remind me of what happened. I'll definitely have to get rid of the glass doors." She tried to smile.

"Dylan, I know what happened was rough and you're upset but you are not thinking clearly. You will be torturing yourself if you go back there." Penny frowned.

"Penny, you've always been supportive about what I wanted. I want to try and live there again."

Penny sighed. "You're sure?"

Dylan wasn't sure. Not at all. But she felt completely lost and felt like she had no other choice. "It's what I want."

Penny was still for a second. "Alright if this is what you want but I am making you a key to this place and if you change your mind at any time, even if it's the middle of the night, you come over, understood?"

Dylan smiled. "Thank you, Penny."

Penny smiled back sadly before reaching over and hugging her sister. "I'm sorry he did that to you."

Dylan rested her head on her sister's shoulder and closed her eyes.

"Me too."

* * *

**Well that's the answer to what went on with Dylan. **

**Thanks for reading! Please Review! I'll try to update quicker!**


	26. Damaged

**Chapter 26**

"Hello?"

"Penny? This is Mort Rainey."

Penny huffed. "What do you want, Mort? Also, how did you get my number?"

"Dylan left her phone here. It's why I'm calling; I need to give it to her. I figured you were my best shot since you two are the closest so if you could tell me where she-"

"No, I can't. Mort, you put her through hell but now you have to leave her alone. I can meet you and get her phone. She's probably realised by now that she doesn't have it and if she hasn't gone up to get it, that probably means she doesn't want to see you."

Mort chewed his lip. "I'd rather give it to her myself."

"I had a feeling you would but no. Leave her alone."

"Look, I don't want to hurt her, I never wanted to."

"Well, you did." Penny said shortly. "You can't just keep tossing her aside and picking her back up when you get bored."

"That is not what I'm doing. I just want to talk to her, explain why I did what I did and make sure she's alright."

"I think you did that when you said you wanted her out of your house."

"What did Dylan tell you?" He asked.

"That she tried to talk to you and you threw her out."

Mort ran his hand over his mouth. "I have a drinking problem. Dylan wanted to help and I didn't want her dragged into my hardships so I told her that I didn't feel being in a relationship was the best thing right now and I told her that because I thought she could do better than me, I thought she deserved better. She still didn't want to leave so I made her want to. Now I just want to know that she's okay because I don't think I'm worth her being upset…And I need to give her back her phone. I figured since my meeting with the doctor about withdrawals is this afternoon and I'll be in the city, I could just give it to her afterwards."

The other end of the line was silent for a while. "She moved back into the house."

Mort frowned. "The house? You mean her house? The house she couldn't step foot in before?"

"Yeah, that house."

"Why would she do that?"

"I tried to talk her out of it but she wouldn't listen to me. She was convinced that she had nowhere else to go."

Mort hung his head, knowing he had done that. "Great."

"Mort, I know this isn't my business but she's taking this break-up hard. If you're just looking to try and justify why you did it, it's not going to matter. Just let her get over it."

Mort sighed. "Thanks, Penny."

"Bye, Mort."

He hung up the phone and began biting his thumb.

* * *

"So, Mort, why do you think you feel the urge to drink?"

Mort was in hell. He was in actual hell. "I don't know, the typical writer cliché?"

The doctor didn't seem too taken with that reason. "When did you begin drinking?"

Mort sighed. "A few years ago. I was suffering from bad writer's block and drinking was an escape."

"An escape just from writing?"

"My marriage was in trouble too." Mort confessed. "Even when I tried to stop drinking, it got worse."

"Was drinking the root of your marriage problems or do you think your marriage problems were the root of your drinking?"

Mort tried to think about that. "My drinking was the root of the problems."

"Does that make you feel guilty?"

"Not anymore. It did up until she had an affair; then I was angry. Then I met someone else and I wasn't angry anymore until that broke apart too and I ended up drinking again."

"Mort, you seem to unconsciously depend on other people to keep you away from alcohol and when they let you down or vice versa, you resort back to it. To really get you on the right track, you need to start having faith in you, just you."

"That's why I'm here." He replied.

"That's good, it's the first step. I think it would beneficial if you did go to meetings."

"No." He said sternly. "No meetings, no AA. I don't want other people hearing my problems."

"Mort, AA is confidential. No one would even know you went and nothing would get out from the group."

"You can't guarantee that. All it takes is one person wanting to cash in and my career is over."

"All the people in AA would be like you, people just wanting to get help for themselves and not too interested in the other's personal lives. They just want to be with people who are going through the same thing, gather strength from one another."

"I thought you said I had to depend on just myself?"

The doctor nodded. "You do. What I meant was you have to stop depending on people to be your crutch, but rather your support. By all means, do let others in, let them help you but just don't depend on them unequivocally. That's not healthy for you or for them; one disagreement or argument and your entire sobriety crumbles. You need to make yourself strong enough to let people in while still knowing that only you can solve this problem."

"If only I can do it, what's the point of AA?"

"To see that everyday people go through the exact same thing and have the exact same struggle. You can see that you're not alone and this is something that affects all different types of people."

"I know it does. My problem is all those people knowing that it affects me."

"You'll have to get over your pride, Mort. Alcohol is taking over your life and you can't pretend it isn't, you can't act like you should be treated differently to those other people when they have the same problem."

"Not the exact same." Mort confessed.

The doctor frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I mean…" He wasn't sure how to put this. "I…See things."

"What kind of things?"

"People. Who don't exist." Mort felt insane saying this. "I created a character a few years ago, John Shooter. I never actually used him in a book but he was a dark, dark character. Ever since the divorce and the drinking started up again, I think…I think I've been hallucinating or something. I see him. I've spoken to him. I am him, I think or I've made myself become him. I can't explain it and I don't want to try, it's too crazy. He showed up on my door saying I stole his story, I thought he was a stalker and he even put his hands on me…But how is that possible? He's not real but to me, he is."

The doctor was listening very carefully. "Mort, I think it's best we make this a regular meeting."

"I'm crazy, aren't I?"

"No one's saying anything like that, I just think that it would be best to conduct an interview, see what's really going on and we can take it from there but I do think you need to stay in therapy for a while, at least."

"Can't you just give me some pills and send me on my way?"

"I don't want to do that."

Mort put his head in his hands. "It went away when I was with Dylan. I never saw Shooter."

"You didn't?"

"Once or twice near the beginning and end but never when we were happy."

"Why did the relationship with Dylan end?"

"I didn't want her to go through this with me; it wouldn't be fair to her."

"So you ended it?"

"Yeah."

"Do you think her willingness to let you go through this alone was a definite trigger to conjuring Shooter?"

Mort shook his head. "No, it wasn't like that. She wasn't willing to leave at all, she wanted to help me. She was great but I didn't think she deserved to be around what I was going through. I was afraid Shooter might want to hurt her or try and get rid of her or that she'd find out."

"So you drove her away?"

"Yeah."

"You didn't think she could help?"

"No, she could have. I was still drinking until she came to see me. She talked to me for a while and made me realise I wanted to stop and then she stayed with me until I made her leave but even that was a struggle. She was the one who made this appointment. She told me that I could either have alcohol or a life with her and I chose her but in the end, I couldn't let her near my situation."

"So are you expecting to get back together with her once you get your drinking and this Shooter character under control?"

"I don't think I'm that lucky."

"But do you want to?"

"Of course."

Doctor Kinney seemed to be debating in his head. "Mort, at the moment I wouldn't recommend you starting a new relationship at all. I think you need to focus on your sobriety first."

"It's not a new relationship; I was with her for months. We were looking to buy a house together."

"Dylan sounds like she wants to help you and it sounds like she's succeeded to a degree." The doctor went on. "In my opinion, you shouldn't phase out the people who want to help you, Mort. If Dylan was helping you, you should let her continue. If you don't feel strong enough to be in a relationship with her, tell her that."

"I did."

"And?"

"She said she understood but she still wanted to help me get better."

The doctor looked at him.

"I know." Mort sighed. "She did everything perfect and I still messed it up."

"Why?"

"Because I didn't want her to get hurt in case Shooter came out…And I didn't have to tell her I was crazy." The doctor nodded and began writing on a prescription pad. "You are prescribing something for me, aren't you?"

"Just something for your withdrawal. Your hands are shaking."

Mort looked down at his hands and realised the doctor was right. "I didn't even notice. That's good though, right?"

"We'll see."

* * *

Mort was walking along the trail by his cabin; Chico had decided to stay behind, the next day. He had chickened out of going to see Dylan after his phone call with Penny after hearing that she was struggling with the break up. He had taken her sister's advice and decided to just let her get over it and move on. She'd probably prefer to just get a new phone than see him right now. Mort rubbed his forehead at the thought. The pills he'd been prescribed were giving him a headache and the fresh air helped. He was tired now though so he just wanted to lie on the couch and go to sleep. He realised that would take a while when he saw a car by the cabin with someone leaning on the hood. The closer he got, he saw that it was Sam, Dylan's father.

"Mister Saunders, what are you doing here?"

"I came to talk to you." Sam got up off the car. "I heard you ended things with Dylan for good."

Mort looked at the ground and walked past Sam. "You heard right. It didn't work out."

"Hmm, she was pretty upset."

"I'm sorry about that but I didn't think it was fair to her for me to lie. It's complicated."

"Oh, I know it is." Sam nodded. "I think it's noble what you did; trying to get Dylan away from your struggle so it doesn't become hers too."

Mort turned back to look at him. "She told you?"

"No, Penny did. And it was just me, no one else in the family knows."

Mort shook his head. "Great. Bet you're ecstatic we're not together now."

"Do you know why Dylan has that name?" Sam asked suddenly.

Mort looked at him with a frown. "What?"

"It's an unusual name, you never wondered?"

Mort shrugged. "She told me you named her after the singer."

Sam chuckled. "When Dylan was seven, she came home from school one day crying her eyes out. She said the other girls had been picking on her for having a boy's name so I brought her into my den and played her some of the songs and she decided she liked them and didn't mind having the name anymore. She went to bed with it out of her mind but Constance wasn't happy."

"Why not?"

"Because when she was pregnant with Dylan, we decided on the names. Christina if it was a girl and Dylan if it was a boy."

Mort frowned. "Uh…"

"When she was born, I was the one who signed the birth certificate and when they asked what the baby's name was, I said we chose Dylan."

"You didn't know she was a girl?"

"If you go into my den, you will see a frame on the wall. In the frame are all the chips I received after staying sober."

Mort was shocked. "You drink?"

"Not anymore. Not since Constance went into labour and I decided that it was the perfect time to go celebrate by going on a bender. When I eventually did get to the hospital and saw my kid, Constance was asleep and I didn't even pick her up. I didn't know. Most of the drink was after wearing off, I was good at being able to hide it but when I went to sign the birth certificate, I thought she was a boy."

Mort didn't know what to say.

"When Dylan was being evasive over why you two ended, I had my suspicions." Sam shrugged. "From that and when I saw you that first time. Penny just confirmed what I already thought. How are you doing?"

"Not well. I didn't want Dylan having to go through that."

"Dylan's a smart girl, I know you may not think so with your writing career and college and whatnot when she didn't even finish high school…"

"I've never thought anything like that." Mort said. "I know Dylan's smart. She's way smarter than I am."

Sam nodded. "Dylan's a smart girl, but she makes bad choices." He sighed. "Dropping out of high school at sixteen to run off to Australia was a bad decision. Running off to Paris at nineteen was a bad idea. Any of her ex-boyfriends were very, very bad ideas. I was convinced you were a bad decision but the more Dylan told me about you and I thought about it, about how you found us just to look for her; the more I think I was wrong. Trying to help you was a smart decision she made, it was a good one."

Mort sighed. "I know but it would be wrong of me to put her through me trying to recovering."

"I respect that. When I first met you, I didn't think I wanted you around my daughter since I expected you might have an addiction but the fact that you're doing the honourable thing…I think you should contact her."

"That would kinda defeat the purpose, wouldn't it?"

"Look, I'm the first person to say that addiction can ruin your life but sometimes it's more favourable to recovery. When I was sobering up, I had a wife and kids to do it for. If I didn't have anyone to do it for, I wouldn't have done it."

"So you're saying I should get back with Dylan so I can use her to give me a reason?"

"I'm saying talk to her. She's devastated over what happened but if you both sit down and talk, each of you might make a decision that is more favourable than the two of you being miserable. I'll admit Mister Rainey, I would rather my daughter be with someone who didn't have a drinking problem since I've seen what drinkers can do to the people they love, but Dylan was happy with you and none of her other boyfriends ever tried to better themselves the way you have. I suppose it's better than anything I can hope for."

Mort didn't know. "I'll think about it. I don't want to have her see me when I'm not sure what I'm doing myself."

Sam nodded. "I can accept that." He looked at him. "This doesn't mean I like you. I don't know you. I just know you make my daughter happy."

"Okay…"

"I still think your books are awful."

"Alright then, good talk. Thanks."

* * *

"Mort?"

Dylan had just opened her door and wasn't expecting who turned out to be on the other side.

"Hey."

"What are you doing here?" She asked.

"I came to give you this." He held out the phone.

"I always forget that damn thing." She huffed, taking it off him. "Is that all?"

"No. Penny told me you were here and I didn't believe her at first." Mort said. "Dylan, what are you doing back here?"

"It's my house."

"Dylan…"

"Why are you here?"

"I needed to talk to you."

"That never really ends well for me so you'll excuse me if I don't want to hear it."

"Please just hear me out. I went to the doctor you made an appointment with and I think he really helped. I'm going back."

Dylan was still for a second before stepping aside. "Come in."

Mort hesitated before stepping inside and Dylan closed the door. He was about to speak but she walked away and he figured he should follow. She led him out to the back garden where she sat on the porch swing. He sat down next to her and frowned when he saw her resume a cigarette.

"You're smoking again?"

Dylan nodded. "Everyone's got to have a vice, right?"

"I thought you stopped because you wanted to improve your health?"

"Things change."

"So you don't care now?"

"It's a cigarette, Mort, not a game of Russian Roulette."

"And you're living here again?"

"So?"

"So you couldn't even step foot in this place on your own when we came here."

"Once again, things change. Clearly."

"So now it's all behind you? You're completely over it?"

"Is this why you're here? To question me? If so, you know where the door is."

"I didn't come here for that, I just felt like I needed to…I don't know, apologise I guess."

"You're forgiven. Bye."

"Dylan, please…"

"You know what? When you told me about…About your drinking problem and you're…When you plagiarised that other guy's story, I didn't care. I just figured that you were trying to be a better person, that you were a better person. Usually, whenever a guy started to be truthful with me, would tell me things he felt he had to hide before, that would be the end of the relationship."

"Yeah, well from what you've told me of your past boyfriends, I'm not surprised."

"But when you told me all that stuff, I just thought that it would be such a huge mistake to let you go because of what you did in the past. I figured that I made some bad choices in my past too which you could have gotten rid of me over but I didn't think you would. I just figured that we were starting everything fresh, that we wouldn't let the past affect us, I mean that was pretty much the entire basis of our relationship."

"Dylan, I don't want my drinking to affect my life either but it does and whether I like it or not, it's not in the past anymore."

"Were you drunk when you went to the prison?"

Mort sighed. "No."

"You can't blame that on your drinking."

"What do you want me to say? I made a mistake. I can't take it back but I am sorry."

"And I forgave you. Against all my better instincts, I forgave you. Then you threw me out of your house."

"I didn't want to throw you out, I just…Dylan, I didn't want you going through that."

Dylan sighed. "I'm not an idiot, Mort. I know why you did it. And it sucks. I can't even be mad at you for it because you were trying to do a good thing. You can't even be an asshole right."

"Your family doesn't really agree."

Dylan frowned at him. "What are you talking about?"

"Your dad came by."

Dylan looked at him. "He went to see you? Jesus…"

"He just came by to say I made a mistake by not letting you stay." Mort clarified. "Why didn't you tell me he had a drinking problem too?"

"Because it never affected me. He gave it up when I was born and only slipped twice when I was a kid. Both times my sisters made sure I didn't see anything. I would have felt like a phoney to bring up my dad having the same problem when I don't know anything of it, like I was trying to fake having some experience with the whole thing. I was clueless on how to help you. I just know that I wanted to help."

"And that was enough for me to know that I'm probably going to love you forever."

Both were silent after that and Mort looked at the cigarette in her hand.

"Want one?" She asked with a raised eyebrow, catching him looking.

"Yes I do but I'm not going to. I'm trying out this new thing where I don't indulge my bad habits, especially the ones that are hard to quit."

Dylan realised that she was probably making it hard for him and put it out.

"So," She began. "Are you going to go to AA?"

"I don't want to but the doc thinks it would be a good idea. I'm currently thinking about it. I'm just afraid that someone will out all my big, bad secrets for a quick buck and my career will be over."

"Okay first of all, what author's career ended because he was a heavy drinker? Ernest Hemingway? Jack Kerouac? James Joyce? In fact, the whole quitting aspect will probably endear you to people."

Mort shrugged. "I'd just prefer that no one knew, that no one talked."

"No one probably will."

"It's the 'probably' that's the problem." Mort replied. "It's a fear I have, can't control it." He looked at her hesitantly; not knowing if this was the right thing to do but noticing how bitter she was against him. "Dylan, about the things I told you, about the drinking and the…the plagiarism…"

"What about them?"

"It's just…I know you're not my biggest fan right now but…"

Dylan looked at him angrily. "Are you kidding me?"

"Dylan…"

"You're seriously asking me if I'm going to tell? If I'm going to cash in on your secrets? Jesus, Mort!" She stood up to get away from him.

"I had to!" Mort defended.

"You should know me!" She turned to him angrily. "You should know that I would never do something like that! Do you really think I would be capable of betraying your secrets that easily? What kind of person do you think I am? The last thing I would ever do is run to newspapers or whatever to cash in on your privacy! In case you haven't remembered, I've kind of had my own problems with that in the past." She huffed. "It's not even that, it's that you think so little of me…"

"I don't." He said quickly. "I'm just terrified that…"

"Did you ask Amy? After you split up? Did she get the same plea?"

"There was a confidentiality agreement in the divorce papers. She talks and I can sue."

"Oh wow, all your bases covered. Do you have something for me to sign or is this a verbal agreement?"

"Dylan…"

"I would never,_ never_ betray you like that. I would never do that to anyone."

Mort sighed, looking at the ground. "And here was I thinking things between us couldn't get worse."

"Well, none of this is my fault."

"Believe me, I know. I remind myself pretty much every hour of every day about how this is all my fault. I couldn't just be someone normal; no I have to get fucking addicted."

Dylan looked down at him. "That doesn't mean you're not normal." She said shortly, still angry. "You're not that special or unique."

"Believe me, I do not feel special."

Dylan shrugged. "I tried to help, I tried to do the best I could and be understanding but you didn't care."

"I did care."

"You had a lousy way of showing it."

"Why can't you understand that I was doing that for you?"

"Seeing my ex?"

"I meant trying to get you away from me. You deserve better."

She sat back down next to him with a sigh, looking ahead instead of at him. "I wanted you."

"You wanted something I couldn't give you."

"That's funny; I could have sworn I was quite happy for those first few months when you gave me exactly what I wanted. I wanted just you."

"Well, it's not just me." He said angrily seeing as she wouldn't get the point. "You want to know why I wanted you away from me? You want to understand why I felt like you should stay away?"

"Because you're too much of a coward to say it wasn't working and you can't see past my history so you acted like a martyr instead?"

"Shooter is in my head."

Dylan frowned at him. "What?"

"Shooter is a figment of my imagination. He doesn't exist. He appears when I drink or when I'm stressed."

Dylan looked at him like he was speaking another language. "Is this one of your weird jokes that I don't get?"

"Nope. I have a mental illness where I see and speak to a character I created years ago. I thought he was real, he's not. He's in my head."

"Mort, come on…" She said, shakily.

"I'm not kidding. Have you ever seen Shooter?"

"I…No?"

"Because he doesn't exist. I made him up. This is why I'm continuing to see the doctor, not for the alcoholism. I'm crazy. Everything we pinned to Shooter, it was me. I am him."

"Does this mean that you…Set fire to the house?"

Mort couldn't reply but only nod.

"Oh my God." Dylan got up.

"Dylan." Mort stood too, facing her back.

"I don't understand this." She said.

"When I realised that Shooter was…Me, I remembered but I don't know if I remembered something or I just came up with it in my head, as a way to explain it."

"So you don't know if you did it?"

"I think I did." He replied.

"You could have killed them!"

"No! I knew they weren't in the house! I saw them leave!"

"I can't believe this. I lied for you!" She cried angrily.

"I would never have asked you if I thought I had done it, I didn't know I had. I couldn't remember the things that Shooter had done. I didn't know he wasn't real. When I realised, that's why I tried to get you to leave, I didn't want you near me."

"So why are you here now?"

"Because that doctor I've been seeing recently said one thing that really stuck with me and that's how I shouldn't have tried to block you out when you wanted to help."

"That's the one thing? You should listen to him more, that's why you're going to him."

"Dylan, I'm not expecting you to want anything to do with me, not now that I've told you the truth about Shooter but I need you to know that I didn't want to lose you, I just didn't want you around me if I was dangerous."

"Are you dangerous?" Dylan asked.

"I don't think so but my head is messed up lately."

Dylan's eyes widened. "The motel manager. Please don't tell me…Oh God…"

"No. No, no." Mort said quickly. "No, that wasn't me. I told the truth then, I did. I really was at home when that happened. I never killed anyone."

"How can I trust you? We were so convinced Shooter was behind everything and if you're Shooter…Oh my God, I can't believe I'm saying these things. It's crazy."

"The doctor has tried to avoid using that word…" Mort half-heartedly joked.

Dylan shook her head. "How long have you known?"

"When I went to your parents' house and we talked and you said that you had tried to call me but I never answered or I hung up on you, I never remembered that."

"I just thought you'd been drinking and hadn't told me."

"That's true but I blacked out. I had been drinking. Shooter comes out when I drink."

"So when I came back and you were drunk? Was he there?"

Mort could have lied. "At the beginning but I got rid of him."

"You can get rid of him?"

"It's weird…I can't explain it." Mort replied. "But all I know is that I'm trying to make it stop for good. I did before but this time I want to make sure he never comes back."

"How…How long have you been seeing him?"

"Not long before you showed up, a couple of days. It hasn't been that long, I swear."

"That long? We were been together for months."

"But he wasn't around for most of it, you remember that. Remember that we said that, how he just left without a trace. He left because I was happy, because you made me happy. I didn't feel vengeful against Amy or Ted anymore; I didn't care what they did as long as I was happy with you."

"Vengeful?" Dylan frowned. "That's why you wanted to burn down the house? Because you wanted to get your own back?"

"I never wanted to burn down their house; the thought never crossed my mind. I didn't even remember doing it. I never lied, I want to make that as clear as I can. When I asked you to lie for me, to provide the alibi, I really thought I hadn't done it. I never would have asked you to do that if I remembered, I never would have, in my right mind, done it at all. Dylan, you know me. You know I couldn't."

"But you did." She replied. "I don't know who you are."

"You do. Yes, you do." Mort said desperately. "I seriously never lied to you. Everything you saw of me is who I am. This is just some sickness that I have. I'm taking care of it though. I'm really trying."

"If that's true, I'm happy for you but why are you here?"

"Because the last thing I wanted you to think was that I didn't want you, that I broke up with you because of something you did. It wasn't. I still love you so much and being with you was probably the happiest I have ever been. I just think that you deserve so much better than what I am."

Dylan looked at the floor, shaking her head. "This is by far the weirdest thing someone has ever told me and I've had some pretty shady boyfriends in the past. But usually whenever they told me that they were dealing meth from the back of their car or whatever, they were usually asking me to hide that car in my garage or something." She thought back with a frown. "But I've never had someone confess something so weird and then tell me that they love me too much to have me near their weird problems."

"Well, that's what I'm doing." Mort said. "I want you to have a happy life and I don't know if I can give you that."

Dylan seemed to be contemplating something for a second before reaching over and kissing him. Mort was confused but didn't stop it, instead wrapping his hands her to place on her back. When the kiss ended, he frowned at her.

"That's not really what I was expecting."

"You just seem to always forget that I love you too, that I wanted to be with you for the rest of my life." She said. "I don't know if I can still do that now that I know what I know but I can't stop loving you so easily."

Mort hugged her tighter. "This is too hard."

"I know." She cried. "All I want is for us to be together and to be happy. I wish that could be happen."

"So do I. I meant it when I said being with you was the happiest I've ever been."

Dylan smiled sadly. "I don't think you'll be surprised to hear that it's the same for me." She pulled back to look at him. "You're the first person who's ever made me feel like I deserve to be happy."

"You do, you really do." Mort said. "And I wish I could be the one to make you happy in the future."

Dylan couldn't resist kissing him again. She was very confused but what she did know was that she loved Mort.

"I should go." Mort sighed when the kiss ended.

"What? No." Dylan frowned. "This can't be the end of it. There's still so much to talk about."

"Like what?"

"I don't know. I just know that there is."

Dylan walked inside and Mort followed her. He saw her standing at the island in the kitchen, running her hand along the counter.

"I don't know what more I can say." Mort said. "I can't think of adding something that doesn't make me sound crazier."

"Are you on medication?"

"For the withdrawal, not the…DID. That's apparently what I have. Dissociative Identity Disorder. It's not as bad as some people have, some people have a lot of different personalities but with just one, I'm practically small pickings."

"What are they doing for that?"

"Therapy, mostly. I did some research on it and there's not a lot of doctors who are comfortable with prescribing pills for it. Anti-depressants are the main thing but with my history of becoming addicted to things that could kill me, well…"

"So it's just therapy?"

"They think it's all I need. Once I get to the root of my problems and my…Need to have Shooter around and come to terms with them and stop being so stressed and paranoid all the time, I should be okay. It gets any worse though and they'll probably have to do something, like put me on anti-anxiety meds."

Dylan nodded, looking down at the counter. "I suppose that's good."

"Hopefully." Mort looked around before looking back at her. "Dylan, what are you doing here?"

"I live here."

"Why? Why are you doing this to yourself?"

"Because I have nowhere else to go." She said sadly. "I'm tied to this house whether I like it or not."

"Only because you won't let yourself let it go." Mort replied.

"You're one to talk."

He nodded. "I am. I know what it's like, not wanting to let something go but you helped me move on. I just wish I had been able to do the same for you."

"You did."

"Not enough to make you not feel scared anymore."

Dylan sighed. "I wasn't when I was with you but him coming back into my life just seemed to correspond perfectly to the both of us growing apart. I just seem to ruin everything I touch."

"It was my fault things fell apart, not yours. The truth is, I was looking for something to lose trust with. I let Amy get to me and let your ex get to me and I let all of them come before you."

Dylan shook her head and sat down. "Maybe you just weren't ready. I should have known. We were rushing into everything and I didn't even consider that it might have been going too fast for you."

Mort walked over and sat across from her. "I was rushing things because I was so desperate to start a new life with you, one where I left Amy and everything behind me."

"I wish we had done it; bought a house and moved on together."

"You do?"

Dylan nodded. "Like I said, I still love you, that hasn't changed."

Mort sighed but didn't say anymore. They sat in silence for a while until Mort looked over at her to see her chewing on her bottom lip.

"What are you thinking about?"

Dylan didn't look up at him. "I'm starving."

"What?"

"Haven't eaten all day." She went on. "Think I wanna get pizza. What about you?"

"What about me?"

"You want some?"

"Oh…I…"

"I'll take that as a yes." She smiled a little. "You always hesitate like that when you want to say yes but feel awkward."

Mort couldn't help but smile back.

Dylan looked around. "I think there are menus around here somewhere..."

Mort stood up. "Tell you what, I'll go out and get it. It'll be quicker."

Dylan looked up at him. "You sure? You're not going to bail and drive home, are you?"

"I may be having some problems but I'm not that much of a monster." He joked.

"Okay, just open the door when you get back, it's open. Here." She reached for her purse.

"No, it's on me." He replied, getting up. "I'll be back soon."

He went to leave the kitchen but Dylan grabbed his hand. "Do. Be back soon, I mean."

Mort looked at her and nodded before leaving the kitchen and soon, she heard the front door close. She sighed, wondering what she was doing.

_He burned down a house. He created an entire person in his head, and that person was a psychopath._

_He didn't realise any of that. He's trying to get better._

_And whether I like it or not, I still love him._

* * *

Mort opened the door and walked inside when he got back.

"Dylan?"

He walked into the kitchen and placed the pizza box down but Dylan wasn't anywhere to be found.

"Dylan?" He called out, looking around.

"I'm upstairs."

He frowned and walked up the stairs to find her in the bedroom. "What are you doing up here?"

She turned and he saw the shoebox in her hand, the shoebox that contained all of Ryan's letters. "Trying to, uh…Trying to be brave enough to throw these out."

Mort walked further into the room. "I thought you kept those in case he ever got out?"

"I do but the thing is, these letters keep me living in the past and it's pretty hypocritical of me to judge you for doing it when I am too. I keep holding on to some fear I have of someone who turned out to be completely different from what I originally thought."

"I have a feeling this is all leading up to me somehow."

Dylan looked up at him. "What's going on with you and what you did, or what Shooter did I guess, it really confuses me about you or about what I feel. He did that to me for a long time." She held up the box. "But really, there's no similarities. You're nothing like him. He wanted to hurt me all the time but the worst you've ever done was call me a mean name and even then, you apologised. Holding onto these letters is just holding onto how scared I am that the same thing will happen again. So I want to get rid of them."

Mort was confused. "Are you saying that you're scared of me?"

"No but I am scared that I'll get hurt again by someone I never thought could do it. But while you were gone, I started thinking about everything that we talked about and everything that you told me. The thing is, you did tell me. You didn't have to but you did." She looked at him. "I still don't know what I think about it or what's going to happen with us but I do know that I am not letting it make my decisions. And neither are these."

"What do you mean you don't know what's going to happen with us?" Mort asked.

"I love you. I'm not sure if I'm ready to let everything go."

"Dylan, I'm sick."

"You're getting help. You're doing the right thing, why would I let something get in the way of our lives if it's being taken care of?"

"So you're saying if I stick with this, you'll stay with me?"

She had to be truthful. "I'm thinking about it."

Mort walked over to her and began kissing her which Dylan reciprocated, dropping the shoebox to the floor. The kiss was filled with everything they'd been holding back and it wasn't long before they were lying back on the bed, Mort on top of her.

"Wait, we can't." He said, pulling back. "Not here."

"Why not?" She said, sitting up slightly. "Don't you want to?"

"Oh, I really want to but this house, this bed..."

"Is going to hold me back as long as I let it. It's just a house, it's just a bed. There are bad memories here but I'm never going to put them behind me unless I prove those memories won't rule me and my decisions. I want to be with you now and I'm not going to let what happened stop me. This is my house, not his and right now, I want to be with you in it."

Mort kissed her again, still thinking this probably wasn't a good idea despite her words but where had his thoughts gotten him lately? Every thought he had seemed to be wrong so now he was going to do what she was, he wasn't going to care about what seemed right and wrong; he was just going to do what he wanted even if it was a bad decision.

_I really suck at break ups._

* * *

"I'm guessing the pizza's gone cold."

"I'm not going out to get another one."

Dylan smiled. "I can heat it up, it's fine."

"Not yet though, right?"

"No, I'm quite comfortable at the moment."

Mort sighed happily and wrapped his arms around her tighter. "Do you have any idea what we're doing?"

"Not a clue but I don't want this to stop."

"Me neither."

Dylan sat up from resting on his chest. "What if we just continued with what we were doing?"

"What do you mean?"

"What if we just stayed together and kept looking for a house like we were planning? Or you could move in here?"

Mort rose himself up slightly. "Are you serious?"

"Why not? If you're getting the help you need, what's stopping us? If anything, things should be getting better."

"Are you forgetting that I burned down a house? That I have a dangerous personality that takes over me sometimes?"

Dylan hadn't forgotten. She just tried to. "I just…Want things to go back to how they were."

"So do I but that can't happen knowing what we now know. Dylan, you should want to run a mile from me."

"I don't."

_Jesus, she's just as damaged as I am._

_Can you blame her? Every guy she's gone out with made her believe she didn't deserve any better, so much so that she's begging a crazy person to live with her just because I'm nice to her._

This was not an epiphany that Mort was enjoying. Dylan was confident and fun but seeing this side to her, all Mort could see was an insecure and vulnerable person who didn't want to lose the first good thing she ever had. Not only that, she seemed practically addicted to broken again?

"Dylan, could you do something for me?"

"What is it?" She frowned.

"Come to my next appointment with the doctor. I don't just mean come with me for moral support, I mean come in and talk to him too."

"Why?"

"I just think it'll help me."

_And it might help you too._

* * *

**I hadn't originally planned for Mort to tell Dylan so quickly, or at all, about Shooter but then just found it an interesting way to go and a good way to demonstrate how damaged Dylan is herself over her own demons. I'm looking forward to revealing why. Also, it's probably not surprising that I like boys' names for girls but I'm glad that it's finally revealed why Dylan has such an unusual boy's name.**

**Thanks for reading! Please Review!**


	27. Treatment

**Chapter 27**

"Stop it!"

Mort stopped tapping his knuckles against the wooden armrest of the chair with his closed fist when the receptionist clearly couldn't take it anymore.

"Sorry." She said, realising she wasn't allowed speak to a patient like that.

"It's fine." He said, looking away. It seemed like he had been sitting in the waiting room for far too long. Inside the therapist's office was Dylan and Mort wasn't allowed in there after the therapist had asked to talk to her alone. He wanted to know what was going on in there but obviously the doctor was asking questions that he didn't want Mort to hear. That just made Mort more curious. He looked up at the clock and sighed. He couldn't stay in this room for much longer. Its mint green walls and plastic plants with stale, stiff furniture with bland paintings on the wall that he couldn't figure out what they were supposed to be and mellow music, he hated all of it. It felt like being in some sort of limbo where time stood still. He had flicked through the old magazines but he was interested in none of them and he tried to avoid just staring at the clock on the wall because it never seemed to move.

Mort stood up and walked over to the reception area where the girl was reading a book. He couldn't imagine having to work here every day. "Excuse me."

"Yes?" She looked up.

"If the woman inside comes out, could you tell her I went outside for some fresh air?"

"Okay."

Mort nodded and left the office. He walked outside and took out his pack of cigarettes. He'd decided that if Dylan could start up again, so could he and what with giving up alcohol, he needed something to relieve his stress. He was nearly finished the first of what he hoped would be many that day when Dylan walked out the door and looked over to him. She walked over with folded arms to protect from the cold.

"What are you doing out here?"

Mort held up the cigarette. "Got a craving."

Dylan nodded. "Kinney wanted me to send you in."

"What he say to you?" Mort asked.

She shrugged. "Nothing much. He said he wants me to come back."

"What? Really?"

"Yup. Thanks for that."

"I didn't know he would-"

"Mort, I'm not an idiot. I get it, I acted a little crazy and you heard alarm bells. It's called being desperate. You broke up with me and I didn't want to accept our relationship was over. I don't think that reaction warrants therapy."

"Then why did you come?"

"Because you asked me to and if it helped you come back here then I figured I could get over my very rational hate of therapists to help you out."

"Dylan…"

"I'll see you later, Mort." She began walking away.

"Dylan, wait."

"Don't keep the doctor waiting, that shit's expensive." She called, not looking back.

Mort sighed and walked back inside. He went into the doctor's office and saw Kinney waiting in his chair, writing some notes. Mort sat down.

"How was she?"

"I'm sorry, Mort, I can't discuss anything Miss Saunders said in here."

"But you want to see her again?"

"I'd like to focus on you now, Mort." The doctor looked up. "Now, to pick up where we left off, you admitted to someone else about Shooter. That's quite a big development."

"Yeah well, I wasn't planning to but for some reason, whenever I try to make Dylan think I'm an asshole so she'll want nothing to do with me and she does, I hate the thought that she'll think I didn't want her or that she wasn't good enough for me."

"So, you told her out of guilt?"

"Not guilt, desperation I suppose. I can't stand the thought of her hating me for the rest of her life."

"Because when you're better, you're hoping to be with her again?"

"I know that can never happen." Mort replied carefully.

"Do you? How are you sure?"

"Did- Did she say something to you?" He asked, pointing at the door.

"I can't tell you that."

"I mean, you know she asked me to move in, that's why I brought her here."

"You think she needs help too?"

"The woman asked a psychopath to live in her house."

"Mort, you're not a psychopath and there are people out there with your illness who have learned to control it and go on to live very normal lives with families of their own."

"Yeah, I don't believe you."

"Well, you should. From what you've told me, I've concluded that your DID stems from post-traumatic stress disorder due to the discovery of your wife's infidelity and divorce mixed with your substance abuse."

"Huh, I must be a goldmine for doctors."

"The fact that you not only realised your Dissociative Identity Disorder but are openly talking about it; Mort, you've taken a lot of steps that not many people in your position would. Only six per cent of people with the disorder actually make their condition apparent regularly. This condition is one of the hardest things to diagnose because people who suffer from it rarely make the symptoms known. You've done very good work from the beginning, Mort. You should be proud."

"Proud of what? Being some homicidal maniac?"

"Mort, if I thought you were dangerous, it would have been my duty to have you committed. I would have at least put you in medication but I think with regular therapy, you can overcome Shooter by yourself. You were practically doing it when you were happy with Dylan."

"So you think I should be with her?"

"I didn't say that. I'm not here to make your decisions for you. I'm only here to help you through your recovery and give you an outlet to deal with your DID."

"I still think this isn't enough. I mean, I…The things I was thinking…" Mort knew what Kinney had meant about no one coming forward about this problem. How was he supposed to admit that his thoughts had turned homicidal at some point? That he had wanted his ex-wife and her lover dead?

_But I don't, not anymore. Those thoughts make me sick now. I don't care what Ted and Amy do with their lives. I was much more invested in my own life with Dylan to care._

"I'm afraid…" Mort sighed. "That not having her around me now, that being alone again will make me go back to the way I was and all the negativity I had before I met her will come back."

Doctor Kinney nodded. "That's understandable. Look Mort, I can't tell you what to do or what not to do, the only person who can makes those decisions is yourself. Now, we have a bit more time left so let's leave Dylan and talk more about just you."

Mort grimaced.

* * *

Mort walked to his car after he left the doctor's office and was surprised to find Dylan leaning up against it with her hands in her pockets.

"Dylan. I thought you went home?"

"I was going to but I changed my mind."

"Great because I really think we need to talk. I-"

"Mort, stop." She put a hand up. "I just decided that now would be a good time to pick up my stuff instead of us trying to get over things but always seeing each other. So we might as well get it done today. I'll just get my stuff and give you back your key."

Mort nodded, messing up his hair. "Alright, whatever you want."

"I never wanted this." She said, getting off his car and walking to her own. "I'll be up later."

Mort sighed and went to open his car door. He wondered if she'd ever stop being bitter with him but at the moment, he doubted it. He drove home and waited for Dylan to arrive which she did not too long later.

"Why did you knock?" Mort asked. "You have a key."

"Yeah but not a right to use it anymore so here." She held it out.

Mort didn't want to take it but didn't think saying that would do any good so he took it off her before stepping aside to let her in. She walked inside and looked to the back of the cabin where her things had been assembled.

"I organised things to make it easier." Mort said as she walked over looking inside one of the boxes and frowned at him. "I'm not good at organising though."

Dylan couldn't help but smile. "The place is looking much better."

"Yeah, I uh, I decided living in squalor wasn't really working for me. I can't take all the credit, Mrs Garvey was here yesterday."

"I thought you and her had parted ways."

"Yeah well, since you left, I've found myself in need of her services again."

Dylan nodded. "Oh."

"Not that you left, just that since you stopped living here." He corrected, knowing that it sounded like it'd been her decision which was the last thing it was. He watched her as she looked around the cabin. "You don't…Miss this place, do you?"

"Well, yeah." She frowned, looking at him. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Because this cabin is like a rustic version of hell."

"I don't know, I thought we had some good times here."

"Yeah, we did." Mort agreed. "But considering the way things ended, it's hard to look back on those times happily."

"I get that." Dylan nodded. "You know what; I should just pack up my stuff and go. I don't want to waste anymore of your day."

"Yeah, I got a whole lot of nothing to do." Mort joked.

"Still…" Dylan was distracted when she realised something. "Where's Chico?"

"Upstairs on his chair, I'm guessing." He replied. "He barely leaves it anymore."

"Do you mind if I, uh, go up and see him? I miss the little guy."

"Oh sure, knock yourself out."

Dylan smiled a little and walked upstairs. Mort ran his hand over his face, feeling like he was being punished over and over again for trying to do the right thing, not from Dylan but just in general.

"Mort." He heard her call.

"Yeah?"

He looked up when she walked over to the railings and looked down. "I think you better come up here. Chico doesn't look so good."

Mort frowned and walked upstairs. He went over to where Dylan was crouching in front of the chair Chico was lying on. "What's wrong?"

"Well, I don't mean to be the bearer of bad news but I think he might have ruined your chair." She pointed out. "It's all wet and he hasn't even moved off it."

Mort realised she was right. "I knew something was up. He's drinking water like nobody's business and peeing everywhere. I just figured he was getting old and lazy."

"I think you might need to take him to the vet."

"Well, I told myself I would if it kept happening but…" Mort didn't finish but he didn't have to.

"I'm sure he'll be fine." Dylan tried to reassure.

"Yeah, I'll just have to put up with whatever the vet says. Gotta do right by Chico…"

Dylan looked at him. "Mort, do you want me to come with you?"

"Yeah but I don't want to say and make you feel like you have to."

Dylan smiled. "I want to. I need to know he'll be okay too."

Mort nodded. "Okay."

* * *

"It might just be a kidney infection which is completely treatable."

"The vet pretty much said it's diabetes."

"She said it might be."

Mort and Dylan were sitting on a bench in the park close to the vet's office after being told to go off for a half an hour and come back for the results of Chico's exam. The vet had suggested a walk but Chico didn't seem too up to it so had settled for lying by Mort's feet.

"He's blind and now diabetic?" Mort said. "What more can happen to the poor bastard?"

"Look, we're not ever sure it is but if it is, it's easy to work around. You give him some insulin every day and he gets better."

"Yeah, insulin injections. I have to stab the poor guy with a needle every day."

"Better he gets that needle than any other, isn't it?"

"I suppose." Mort sighed. "Thanks for trying to cheer me up. And for coming. And staying."

"Of course I did." She said. "I didn't realise how much I'd miss Chico. I just hope he's okay."

"Yeah, me too."

Dylan looked down at her watch. "I think it's time we start heading back. They'll probably have the results now."

Mort nodded and they got up, walking back to the vets.

"Well, it's definitely diabetes." The vet explained when she saw them. "He's going to need two insulin injections a day, twelve hours apart and can only eat when he's had his shot. I also want to put him on some special weight control food that should help with it. Do not feed him between the two injection times and do not give him anything other than his dog food, no scraps from the table." She took out a needle. "This is what you'll use. At the moment, I think you should be okay with filling it up to five. "She pointed where she was talking about. "And make sure you change the needle, don't use the same one too much. Inject at the back of the neck like this," She injected Chico. "And if it's done right, he shouldn't feel a thing." She smiled up at Mort. "Want to give it a try?"

Dylan looked up at Mort who seemed a little overwhelmed with all this new information and responsibility. The last thing he seemed to want to do was try out giving injections. The vet seemed to notice too and looked at Dylan.

"What about you?"

"Oh, I…Okay." Dylan took the needle and did what the vet told her. "Feels weird."

"It takes some getting used to." The vet nodded. "But I'm sure with you two taking care of him, he'll have no worries."

Neither of them decided to correct her about it being the two of them.

* * *

"Well, at least he won't be dehydrated anymore."

"Yeah, but I don't think there's a cure for his laziness."

Dylan smiled. "Admit it, you're relieved."

"A little." Mort replied. "But still, he's blind and diabetic. That isn't going to be a cakewalk."

"Don't mention cake in front of him, that's mean." Dylan said, covering the dog's ears as she sat next to him on the couch.

Mort chuckled. "Sorry."

Dylan stood up to face him. "I better get going, it's getting dark."

"Really?" Mort asked. He'd liked that they'd just spend the last few hours together and hadn't been at each other's throats or had been focusing on their problems.

"Yeah. I'll just grab my stuff and get going."

He nodded. "Most of it is still where you left it."

"Right." She walked past him and up the stairs to collect her clothes from the bedroom.

Mort sighed and went to sit on the couch next to Chico. He laid back, his head resting against the cushions and Chico supported himself on Mort's torso. He scratches the dog's ear as he closed his eyes.

"As if things weren't going shitty enough for us, buddy."

By the time Dylan came back downstairs, both Mort and Chico were asleep on the couch. She couldn't resist walking over and looking down. The two were adorable to look at and by the way Mort was sitting, she knew he hadn't meant to fall asleep but the medication he was on probably didn't give him much of a choice. Dylan sighed, thinking about what he must have been going through. He was handling it well, at least in front of her and she wasn't giving him a break. Dylan walked into the kitchen and started snooping around; hoping Mort wouldn't wake up and catch her. She was happy to find no alcohol in the cabin but she didn't find much food either.

_Why does he find it impossible to shop for himself? I mean, seriously. How does he even survive? _

Dylan shook her head and began looking for anything she could make into actual food. By the time Mort woke up, the smell of cooking had dragged him to the kitchen.

"Dylan, you're still here?"

"Why is it you can buy like five blocks of cheese but you can't buy vegetables at the same thing?"

"You're making me dinner?" He was very confused.

"One onion, Mort. That's all I could find of any vegetables, a lone onion."

"Dylan?"

She sighed. "You just…You never seem to eat proper food when you're on your own. It'd help, Mort, if your diet was a bit healthier. You'd feel better especially considering how horrible you're feeling every other time. So yes, I'm cooking you dinner because if I don't, you will die in a haze of Dorito dust and then who will give Chico his injections?"

Dylan was caught off guard when Mort grabbed her by the waist and kissed her. She looked up at him with wide eyes when they parted.

"I thought you were trying to keep your distance since I acted crazy at the house?" She asked.

"Have you even listened to me for the past few days?" He frowned.

Dylan smiled. "Uh…Dinner will be ready in a few minutes so why don't you get a plate and stuff?"

"Plates. Plural. You're staying, right?"

"Oh, I…I don't know…"

"Please. I'd feel bad if you went to the effort and then just had to drive miles home with nothing."

Dylan nodded. "Okay. I just hope we're not getting into a bad cycle here."

"Bad cycle?"

"We avoid each other, act bitter then try to be nice then end up having sex or something and then try to avoid each other again. It's not helping either of us."

"In my defence, I never try to be bitter."

"In my defence, I act bitter because you constantly do stupid things under some ridiculous act of being nice."

"Well excuse me for trying to do the right thing."

"Seeing my ex in prison was the right thing?"

"I apologised for that. I panicked."

"Because of your ex-wife. You took her word over mine."

"No, I didn't. I…" Mort stopped himself. "I don't fight with you."

Dylan seemed to compose herself too. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring all that up again."

"No, I'm sorry. You're right about everything."

"Look, I'm just going to go. You can take care of the rest yourself and I don't want to be driving through those country roads too late."

"No, don't go. Seriously." Mort tried to convince her. "I don't want you driving those roads in the middle of the night either."

"So what? I stay here? I don't think that's a good idea."

"I'll stay on the couch."

"I can't-"

"Dylan, please. I can't take that the one person who made me feel okay to be around people again doesn't want to be around me."

Dylan was silent for a second. "Okay, I'll stay. But nothing is happening, okay?"

"Fine, I wasn't expecting it."

"That doesn't mean we can't both stay in the bed." She shrugged. "We're adults, we can control ourselves."

"Okay."

Mort wasn't so sure about his resolve when she came out of the bathroom later that night wearing a string top and shorts that she used to sleep in when she stayed in the cabin. She sat on the end of the bed, curling her leg under her as Mort reclined on the other side.

"Can I ask you something I've always wondered?"

Mort shrugged. "Go ahead."

"How many girlfriends have you had?"

Mort frowned. "What?"

"I always wondered that."

"Two." Mort admitted. "Met Amy when I was eighteen and you."

"Only two?" Dylan asked.

"Well, believe it or not, I wasn't the most popular guy in high school. Met Amy in college and we dated for a few years, got married, got divorced and I met you."

"So, Amy was…Your first?"

Mort nodded. "Amy was my first."

Dylan seemed to think about that.

"What about you?" Mort asked.

"What about me?"

"Well, I told you now it's your turn. I know you said you've had a few boyfriends in the past…"

"Three. Three real boyfriends. Before you."

Mort frowned. "What do you mean real boyfriends? Were some imaginary?"

"You really wanna joke about that?"

"Sorry."

"I just meant, some guys screwed me around and messed with me. I wouldn't really say what I had with them was a relationship."

"Good to hear."

"You asked." She shrugged/

"That I did. So, when did you have your first real boyfriend?"

"When I was nineteen."

"Really?"

Dylan nodded. "Yup."

"So you didn't date in high school either?"

Dylan went quiet at that.

"What?" Mort asked.

"Nothing."

"No, I just said something wrong. What I say?"

"You didn't say anything wrong."

"No come on, tell me."

"It was nothing!"

"Dylan, I don't want to do this back and forth where there's something wrong but neither will say. Come on."

Dylan huffed. "You're going to judge me."

"Why would I judge you?" Mort frowned.

"Because everyone does."

"I'm not everyone. Tell me."

She let out a sigh. "When I was fifteen, I had an affair with my chemistry teacher."

That shocked Mort. "What?"

Dylan nodded. "There you go, that was my first time. It lasted for four months and after it got found out; my dad took me out of the school and tried to send me somewhere else. I stayed in some all girls' Catholic school for three months before I dropped out of high school."

"I don't understand." Mort frowned.

Dylan shrugged. "What's there to understand? The guy knew I was the youngest of eight kids, all of whom had been in the same school, knew I was probably a little neglected at home and used it to his advantage. I fell for it and let him do what he wanted. Before you say it, no I was not forced to do anything; I knew what I was doing. I was just too young to realise how screwed up it was and how creepy he actually was."

"So this guy used your circumstances to make you feel special so he could get with a student?"

Dylan nodded. "I was struggling with chemistry, actually I was struggling with everything except English and he seemed really nice. He was always helping me out and not being horrible like the other teachers when I didn't get questions right or forgot my homework or whatever. When he offered to tutor me after school, I jumped at the chance because I had developed a crush on him. We stayed in his class room after school and well, you can guess the rest. He told me if I told anyone, I'd get thrown out of school and my family wouldn't understand and basically convinced me that anything he said was best so I didn't tell anyone. He kept saying that we had to keep it a secret and when I graduated, we could be together properly. I was deluded, I went with it. That was until his wife I never knew about came along."

"What?"

"Yup. We used to write notes; she found them and called the school. Safe to say, it didn't take long for my parents to get called in. My dad nearly killed him."

"Yeah, I wouldn't expect any less from your dad, unsurprisingly."

"I got taken out of the school and it was over."

"Didn't your parents press charges?"

"They did but I just spoke to police and he was arrested but when it was going to trial, the lawyers made it clear to my parents that my identity would probably not be protected and they figured that they'd rather not put me in the public eye like that rather than send him to jail. They asked for a deal and so, he got eight years' probation, had to register as a sex offender, can't leave the state and can't teach ever again as well and my family has a restraining order against him. He pleaded guilty and that was that. I tried to see him but he wasn't interested and I finally realised what everyone had been talking about."

"And you got sent to an all girls' school?"

"Which I didn't last long in. Even if my identity had been protected by the media, it sure as hell wasn't protected from people in my old class and soon enough, the girls in my new class. I got quite the abuse from the other kids. I dropped out of school and ran off to Australia to stay with my aunt."

"Whoa…" Mort breathed.

"Ever since then, I go for guys that don't treat me well because I unconsciously remember that when he was manipulating me and forcing me to be quiet, he was good at it but when he manipulating me and being really sweet and nice, I felt like I was the most important person to him to make him act that way. I tried to get that feeling from the others. It rarely worked. Then Ryan came along and it completely worked. Until it didn't. Then I changed tactics and didn't let anyone near me and then you came along and it was a bit of the same thing at the beginning with the way we acted around each other and then just the sex thing but soon, we were both happy and there weren't any games. I guess the reason I got so crazy when you told me about Shooter was because I went back to thinking that if Shooter went away when you were with me, that must have meant you thought I was special and if you thought that, then it must have been true about me and I didn't want to lose that important feeling of validation. I know, I'm a wreck." She looked down.

"But you do make Shooter go away." Mort said. "That doesn't change depending on if we're together or not. You helped me more than anyone ever has."

"I'm just sorry that I couldn't help you enough to stay sober and for Shooter not to come back."

"Well, I'm working on fixing both of those things because of you and that's more than I've ever done. No one ever got me to go see a doctor or a therapist about my drinking but I did for you."

Dylan sighed. "It's why the therapist wants to see me again. I just let everything spill today and I haven't been able to stop thinking about it since. It's one of the reasons I was mad at you for making me go there."

"Are you going to go again?"

"I don't know. I don't want to."

"Well, it's up to you. I kinda have to go back."

"I just hope it works out for you. I wish I could go and see if there was anything in it for me but in case you haven't noticed by now, I'm not really good at trusting people anymore."

Mort noticed how dejected she looked. "Come here." He took her arm and pulled her up to lie next to her with her head on his shoulder and his arm around her. Dylan didn't object and actually seemed to welcome the contact. She closed her eyes for a few minutes before opening them and shooting up.

"Dylan?" Mort frowned, opening his own eyes.

"I just realised I forgot my phone again. I don't know how I ever get jobs when no one can ever call me." She lay back down. "Oh well, if it's important, they'll still want me tomorrow."

She closed her eyes again and Mort followed her lead until both were fast asleep.

* * *

"She's not home. We have a police car stationed outside in case anyone appears."

The family looked from the police officers to Penny when she walked into her parents' living. "She's not answering her phone. That was my sixth try. I don't think she has it with her."

"Maybe she'll have seen on television and run off again." Morgan suggested.

"She's not stupid; she'd go to the police."

"Where could she be?" Jen asked. "Maybe at the writer's place? Mort Rainey?"

"No, she said she wasn't seeing him anymore." Penny shook her head. "Anyway, I tried calling there too and there was no answer."

"Try again."

"I've tried twice. He's not home and she's not there."

"Well, she has to be somewhere!" Sam said agitatedly. "We should be out looking instead of sitting around here."

"Sir, I understand your frustration," The police officer replied. "But we need to keep you all in the one place and protected. If Ryan Callaghan can't find her, he might settle with hurting the people close to her."

"How did he even get out?" Constance asked.

"We're still looking into that."

"I'm going to go check on the kids." Jill said, getting up and leaving the living room. Every one of the Saunders' children and grandchildren were currently in the house.

Except one.

And she was the one in most danger.

* * *

**Thanks for reading! Please Review!**


	28. The Enemy

**Chapter 28**

"Shut up!"

Dylan whispered furiously at Mort's computer when it made its start-up noise. She looked into the bedroom to see if Mort had woken up and was relieved to see that he was still sleeping peacefully. She looked back at the computer and began rifling through the different folders. She hadn't planned on doing this, she didn't like it but she had to know who she was sleeping with, literally. The thought that when he woke up, he could be Shooter was daunting. She'd never accounted Shooter before but from what she'd heard, she considered herself lucky so far. It was true she couldn't resist Mort but now that she wasn't talking to him and had a clear head, she needed to know what his head was filled with. If she knew anything about Mort, his life was in this computer.

_Doesn't seem unusual. All pretty normal. This is good._

Dylan felt a lot better seeing that Mort's computer didn't hold anything. Everything looked completely normal. She was about to switch it off but another folder caught her attention.

_Book._

Dylan contemplated opening it. She knew Mort wouldn't be happy if she looked at his writing before it was done but writing was what Shooter was most obsessed with. She clicked into the folder and opened the documents, reading the story concocted in front of her. After a few pages, she realised what was going on.

"Mort!"

Mort was scared awake when he felt himself pushed and heard his name shouted. He opened his eyes to see a blurry Dylan standing over him. He put on his glasses and frowned up at her. "Dylan? What's wrong?"

"What is that story on your computer?"

"What?"

"The story on your computer, Mort! The one that is really like mine except in this version, I'm the villain! Explain to me what that is!"

"You were looking through my computer?"

"I wanted to see if Shooter had left anything on it."

"So you look through my computer when I'm asleep?"

"What is that story doing on your computer, Mort?!"

"You shouldn't have been looking through my computer!"

"You shouldn't have written that story!"

"I didn't!"

Dylan frowned at him. "What?"

"I did not write that story. Shooter did."

"That…Doesn't make sense. So you didn't know it was there?"

"I did. It's how I realised that something was going on with me, because there was a story on my computer that I had no recollection writing."

"Why is it still there? You're not planning on publishing it, are you?"

"No."

"Then why is it there? Why is it written so that I'm a monster?"

"You're not in the story!"

"No, I just inspired it!"

"No you didn't because you are nothing like that character!"

"Oh come on, Mort! The crime is the exact same except in your version or Shooter's version or whoever's version, she set that guy up!" Dylan cried. "That is exactly what you thought I did when you went to see him!"

"No, I didn't!"

"Stop lying!"

"I am not lying! Dylan, you shouldn't have gone through my computer!"

"You shouldn't have written or kept that story!"

"I wasn't going to do anything with it! I didn't write it!"

Dylan shook her head. "I should never have come back here or stayed here."

She grabbed her jacket and bag before turning to leave the room.

Mort got up to follow her. "Dylan, wait!"

He grabbed her arm to but he pulled away and got to the stairs. "Don't tou-" She was caught off guard when she stepped on her jacket sleeve and tripped, falling the rest of the way down the stairs. Mort could only watch in horror as she plummeted down each step and rolled onto the floor, lying motionless.

"Dylan?"

* * *

"Do you think he's home?"

"His car is outside."

"Try knocking again."

The police officer knocked on the door again. It was swiftly opened by a man with glasses and blonde hair wearing a long sleeved t-shirt with an open plaid shirt over it and jeans. "Yes?"

"Mort Rainey?"

"Yes, that's me."

"Mister Rainey, we're here in relation to a Miss Dylan Saunders, we believe you two know each other?"

"Yes, we do. What is this about?"

"Miss Saunders might not yet be aware of the fact that her attacker, Ryan Callaghan has fled prison and no one can seem to find her. We were wondering if you've heard from her in the last day."

The writer sighed. "Boy, that is some big problem. I wish I could be of more help, fellas, but I ain't seen her in a while. We broke up not too long ago and haven't really been in contact since. If I do hear from her though, you fellas will be the first to know."

"Thank you, sir." The first officer nodded.

"Can I just say," The second officer piped up. "I'm a big fan of your work, Mister Rainey."

"Why thank ya."

"I never knew you were Southern."

Shooter smiled. "Most people don't."

* * *

Dylan could only feel a pounding headache before she could register anything else. Where was she? What had happened?

"Oh God…"

"You up, darlin'?"

Dylan opened her eyes and realised she was on Mort's couch. Was that Mort she had just heard? She looked behind her quickly but regretted the action when she felt more pain in her head. "Mort?"

"Up by the computer."

Dylan got up, woozily, and walked up the stairs. "What happened?"

"You took a tumble." Mort didn't look up from his computer.

Dylan's face flickered for a second at the accent, what happened coming back to her, but she quickly hid it. "Any good ideas to say you're sitting at your computer?"

"Now, you know I can't tell you that." He smirked up at her.

"Yeah, you're right. I'm sorry, you always say that and I still always ask." She eyed her bag down on the table before looking back at Mort, or Shooter now, she feared. "Well, I really liked last night so maybe we can do it again but right now, my head hurts so I'm going to go home. I'll call you."

She began to walk down the stairs, trying not to walk too quickly but froze when he stood up.

"You're leaving already?"

"I have work." She tried to smile back at him but as usual, her lying wasn't great.

"Didn't you just say you wanted to leave cause your head was hurtin'?"

"Yeah, so I need to take some painkillers and have a shower before I go to work." She could tell she wasn't lying well.

"You can't take the day off?" He started following her down the stairs.

"I wish but it's very important today. Anyway, I think we should still take things slow so I'm going to go now."

"You don't take things slow. You made that clear last night. A lot of guys don't need to wait around with you."

Dylan went to her bag and felt around for her keys, not finding them. "Where are my keys?"

"Where is your car?"

Dylan frowned and went to the window. "Where's my car?"

"Guess I misplaced it. Oops."

She looked back at him. "I'd like to leave now."

"No, Miss Saunders, you can't do that." She began walking slowly around the table to keep some distance between them and Shooter followed her footsteps. "You see, Mister Rainey likes you, you make him happy. When he's happy, I get lost."

"No, you don't." She shook her head. "You're in his head all the time. That's how you can come out. It's how he writes his books. Because of you. Shooter." She tried to placate him. "If it weren't for you, Mort wouldn't have any books. So really, they're all yours."

"If they were mine, the ending would have changed. You convinced Mister Rainey that he didn't need to change the ending; you convinced him that Ted and Amy could be left alone. You made him believe that he could be happy while they lived and in doing all that, you made him believe that he didn't need me. You made me disappear. I don't like to disappear. After all, how can Mister Rainey write without me? I'm his inspiration."

"No, I am." Dylan countered, still circling the table and hoping it stayed between them. "You may help him write but I help you write. That story, the one about the girl? The new one? I know all about that."

"And just how exactly did you know that?"

"I read it on his computer. When he was asleep last night. I saw that story about the girl, and I knew it was about what you made him think of me. Only you could have written that. It's a great story, I didn't read all of it but what I did, it was fantastic. Maybe Mort could publish it under the pseudonym John Shooter and everyone would know John Shooter wrote that amazing story. You wouldn't need to change the ending of another story; you'd have one all of your own."

Shooter stopped and looked at her with curiosity. He seemed to be thinking of her proposal. "If the book is done, why do I need you anymore?"

"I've had a lot of bad things happen to me. Believe me, I am a goldmine for writers who specialise in fucked up people. You could get like, seven books out of me."

"Not if Mister Rainey gets rid of me. He thinks he will if you stay around. He thinks you make him happy. After you had your fall, he tried to take real good care of you but he was panicking when you wouldn't wake up. He just got more and more stressed and look, here I am."

"So obviously, me being around doesn't get rid of you. I'm here and you're here, that proves it."

Dylan was surprised that she seemed to be talking Shooter around. Since when was she good at that? Maybe she really did have value to him. That was unnerving.

"Mister Rainey's going to counselling to get rid of me, so you'll be with him again. That's all he wants, and he thinks he needs to get rid of me to do it."

"Mort just wants to beat his addiction to alcohol and be a good writer again. If you make him a good writer, he'll want you to stay. I have nothing to do with it. Look, all you wanted to do was change the ending, right?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Isn't having a whole new book better?" Dylan asked. When Shooter didn't answer, she walked towards him a little. "What is the point in changing the ending to a story when everyone will remember the old ending? That story is done, finished. Revising the ending won't delete the old one but this new book, that new book could be whatever you want it to be. You can make it exactly what you want. Why let a few paragraphs dictate everything you do when you could have a whole book?"

Shooter considered it for a few seconds but was blindsided when Dylan quickly picked up the phone from the table and smashed it against his head, rendering him unconscious. She looked at him on the floor for a few seconds before being assured that he was knocked out. She crouched down and searched through his pockets, finding her keys. She hurried out of the cabin and found her car not too far away, hidden in the woods. She got inside and sped off, leaving the cabin, Shooter and Mort behind her.

She was completely shaken and couldn't stop looking into her rear view mirror to make sure she wasn't being followed. When she looked again and saw nothing behind, she looked back to the road, only to see a figure standing on the middle of it. She let out a yell of fright as she swerved the wheel and lost control of the car, speeding down into the trees and colliding off one, the back wheels swerving. The car rolled a few times down the hill into the forest before coming to a stop the right way up. Dylan was barely conscious by the time the motion ended but for the most part, her seatbelt had saved her and nothing was broken. Her head was spinning though and it was a struggle to undo her seatbelt or focus on what was around her. She just knew she had to get up to the main road and hope for a passer-by. She finally managed to unclasp her belt and opened her car door, spilling out and onto the ground. The impact was almost a shock and she could focus a little more clearly. She could only walk a couple of feet before resting against a tree each time she walked. She was just trying to walk back up the hill when the figure that had been in the middle of the road appeared at the top. She hadn't got a good look before and she didn't again with the sun behind him but it was obviously from his stature that it was a man.

"Hello, Dylan."

Dylan's eyes widened as he walked down the hill a few steps and she got a better look at her ex. Her fear took over immediately and she turned, running the way she came from. She didn't get far though before he grabbed her and dragged her back.

"No!"

"Come on Dylan, I thought you'd be happy to see me." Ryan said as he dragged her to the hidden car he'd robbed the day before. "It's been so long. I drove up to that cabin belonging to your new squeeze but you ran out of there fast. It would really work better for me if we were all together for this."

"What would?" Dylan asked, beginning to panic.

"Killing him and making you watch before killing you. It kind of works better if you're both around."

Dylan's struggling got more aggressive but she was in no fit state to fight and Ryan didn't have much of a problem getting her into the trunk of that car.

"Time to visit the writer."

* * *

Mort held his head in his hands, feeling like his entire life was over.

_How did this happen? How could I let this happen?_

_Dylan will never come near me again. I'm insane. I should be locked up. _

He was in the middle of hating himself when there was a knock on the door. He was going to ignore it but when it erupted again, he got up. He was expecting it to be the police, Dylan must have called them to report him, she had to. What he wasn't expecting was to Dylan on the other side.

"Dylan? You came back."

"Mort…"

"Dylan, I am so sorry. I don't know how it happened, how he got out of me. I don't know why you came back but…"

"She didn't really have a choice."

Mort's eyes widened when Ryan appeared in the doorway, wrapping his arm around Dylan's tense shoulders.

"Aren't you going to invite us in?"

Mort stepped aside despite that the look on Dylan's face clearly told him not to. He couldn't leave her alone with this guy.

"Such good manners." Ryan said, pushing Dylan inside. "And such a nice home, Mister Rainey."

"Suits me fine." Mort replied, closing the door. He felt the key with this guy was to not make him angry and Mort was just beginning to notice how wrecked Dylan seemed. He didn't want to make it worse. "So, what brings you around to my neck of the woods?"

"Well, I figured this would be the best place to look for Dylan and see, I found her."

"I was going in the opposite direction." Dylan pointed out. "Bringing me back here makes no sense."

"Sure, it does. Don't want to separate you two lovebirds."

"We broke up." Dylan said. "Ages ago."

Mort could see what she was doing, trying to get Ryan to leave here and Mort alone.

"If that's true," Ryan began. "Then why were you leaving his place this morning?"

Dylan tried to think of something but as usual, she couldn't think of a lie to save her life. Literally, this time.

"She left some camera equipment here." Mort made up. "Needed to get it for work."

"And she didn't realise until this morning that she didn't have it?"

"I haven't been working in a while." She answered. "Just got back to it."

"How convenient."

"Not really. I've been pretty much too afraid to do anything since you called me here and that includes working or being in a relationship. You must love hearing that."

"It's nice to know, yeah. But…" Mort had to grab Dylan when Ryan slapped her across the face, causing her to fall. She would have hit the floor if Mort hadn't caught her.

"Hey!" He shouted.

"Do not lie to me! Either of you! Or I will blow your brains out." Ryan revealed the gun he had on him. "And this time, I'll succeed."

Mort looked down at Dylan as she covered her mouth with her hand where he'd slapped her. She looked up at him in fear, not knowing how they were going to get out of this.

"Oh don't act like he's some hero. I saw you when you ran out of here, you had that bruise on her jaw before I ever got to you."

"I fell down the stairs last night." Dylan said. "Unlike you, he doesn't need to use his fists to make a point."

"Let her go." Ryan demanded to Mort who was still trying to make sure she was alright. What she'd just said about him and Mort had made Ryan too angry though. "I said let her go!" He grabbed Dylan and pulled her from Mort's arms to the other side of the cabin.

Mort put up his hands at Ryan waving the gun in his direction. "Alright look, no real damage has been done yet. The cops were here this morning, they're probably still in the area. You wanna take that chance?"

"What chance? Being in the secluded cabin in the middle of nowhere with two people who will be killed if they try to run? Yeah, I favour my chances."

"Ryan, why are you bringing him into this?" Dylan asked. "He has nothing to do with anything. You two don't even know each other."

"Oh but we do. My old friend Mort here came to visit me in prison, didn't you?"

"He told me that already." Dylan said. "That doesn't mean you have to do any of this. I'm the one you care about. At least with me, no one will notice but the famous writer living in town? There's not a chance people won't notice he's gone missing. You might as well just do whatever the hell you're going to do with me and let him go."

"Let him go where? The police station?"

"No, I meant we could go, you and me." She was thinking desperately of anything to say. "Come on, I always end up disappearing anyway, it wouldn't be strange for people to think I ran off to a different country or somewhere again. No one can do anything if they can't find us."

"Dylan." Mort wanted her to shut up as he saw Ryan think about her words. If he thought it was a good idea and did something like knock Mort out or tie him up before dragging her away, by the time Mort alerted the police, it could be too late and she'd never be found or it'd just be her body.

"Mort, I told you I don't be with you anymore. I don't trust you." She said, trying to get him to shut up while making Ryan believe her. "It shouldn't matter to you where I go or who with." She turned to Ryan. "I'm who you want. He's just collateral damage."

"You love him." Ryan looked at her.

"No, I don't." She really hoped she sounded convincing. "And he still loves his ex-wife, he's made that clear. It was just a mistake, one I realised before you even got out. He and I were a big mistake and I don't want it to ruin my life even more than it already has. At least you were honest with me." She said to Ryan. "You didn't hide things and lie to me. You were honest. That's what I wanted, that's what I've always wanted. Why would I stay with you for so long if I didn't?"

Ryan turned to her more, so that his back was completely facing Mort. "Is that so?"

"You should know it is." Dylan said. "I always told you how much I loved you, even that day before I went to work. I told you I loved you that morning. You can always tell when I'm lying. Was I lying then?"

"No." Ryan shook his head. Mort tried to be very quiet as he snuck up behind him. "But you're lying now."

In the next second, Ryan turned and shot the gun and Mort fell to the floor.

"No!" Dylan screamed, trying to run over but Ryan pushed her back to the floor. "Mort!"

"Mort's gone, just me and you now." Ryan said, reaching down to grab her hair. "Just you and me forever. Don't worry, I'm not mad that you lied to me or even that you cheated. I can let it go, your slip with the writer. Everyone makes mistakes."

"It wasn't a slip." She cried up at him, a mix of anger and hate filling her up just as much as the pain over Mort was. "It lasted for a lot longer than just a 'slip'. We were looking at houses together. I was going to sell our house and leave it all behind me, leave you behind me."

"No, you weren't. You were still living there. That was the one thing the writer can't take away from us, our home…"

"You would think." Dylan said.

Ryan frowned down at her. "What?"

"I slept with him, there, in our bed." She said. "I let him into our home and I slept with him in it. I asked him to move in there. That is how much I didn't care anything about you anymore."

"You're lying."

"I'm not. You tried to kill me but I really didn't even think about you when I slept with another man in the bed we chose together, in the house we bought together and lived in together. I do not care about you, no one does! You mean nothing!"

Ryan slapped her again, his anger making him drop the gun and just want to hurt her with his bare hands. Dylan managed to kick him into the stomach and he fell back. She shot up quickly but he was picking up the gun already and she had to run the only way she could away from him, out the back door. When he didn't follow her, she ran across to the lake and onto the pier. She crouched down and swung her legs over, gasping as she lowered herself into the freezing cold water. She had just managed to get under the pier when she heard the back door swing open.

"Dylan? Where are you?"

She prayed that he wouldn't come over here, wouldn't find her.

"I know you're around here somewhere."

She had to put a hand over her mouth and try not to breathe when she heard his footsteps step onto the pier. He was right above her. If he looked down, he'd see her through the cracks just like she could see him by looking up.

_Don't look down. Please don't look down._

"Where the hell is she?" She heard him mumble to himself.

_Thank God._

"There she is!"

Dylan screamed as the back of her hair was grabbed harshly and she was dragged under the water as he pulled her from under the pier. She emerged a couple of seconds later as he pulled her up onto the pier.

"Sorry I took my time coming to get you, honey, but I had to get some stuff out of the car. I didn't think you'd run far, not when your writer can't go with you. I didn't think you'd do something as stupid as jump into the water though, Christ. Now you're all wet." He said, dragging her back into the cabin. When they got inside, he threw in front of the fireplace. "And just to make sure you don't run away again…" Ryan got the rope he'd taken from the car off the table and grabbed her arms, pulling them behind her back and tying them.

"Stop! Please!" Dylan begged as he tied her up. Her previous boldness was gone now that she as completely tied up and he could really do whatever he wanted with her. Now she was more scared than anything else. "You don't have to do this; I won't tell anyone I saw you. You can run, start a new life. If you kill me…"

"I'll finally finish what I started." He said, tightening the ropes which made her cry out in pain.

"Why are you doing this?" She asked.

"Because I don't want anyone else to have you."

He finished with the ropes and walked away.

"You had me!" Dylan cried, watching him walk away. "I was there! Why did you do it then?"

"You were leaving. We both knew it. You weren't going to stay with me."

"I was!" Dylan said though it was a lie. She'd thought of leaving him so many times and she'd been considering it when the first attack happened. She didn't think he knew that though. "I was going to marry you."

"You kept taking off your ring. When you thought I didn't see you. You'd be standing at the kitchen counter or at the mirror in the bathroom and you'd take it off, just for a few seconds."

"Ryan, I'm sorry!" She said desperately.

"You're not sorry though!" He said angrily, turning back to her. "The minute I was out of the picture, you began shacking up with the writer! Here! Then you…In our home, you…!" He stopped, fuming. "Well, if you want to live with the writer, you can die with the writer."

Dylan cried harder, knowing she'd never be able to talk him out of it. She began to panic when she saw him pick up a knife she hadn't seen before.

"What are you going to do once you kill me? You'll go back to prison and for a lot longer."

"Of course I won't." Ryan smiled as if he thought she was adorable for getting it so wrong. "When you're dead, I'll be done."

"Done?" Dylan frowned. "What do you mean done?"

"Well, I'll have nothing left to do in life. My life was all about you but once you're dead, I'll have nothing to do but join you."

"You're going to kill yourself?"

"It's romantic." Ryan said as if it were obvious. "They'll find us together. "

"You're insane." Dylan cried.

Ryan huffed before raising his leg and stomping his foot down hard on her torso and Dylan felt a few of her ribs break as she screamed in agony. He knelt down next to her, the knife still in his hand. She felt like she couldn't breathe and could definitely taste blood.

"I didn't want to do that." He said sympathetically. "I never want to hurt you, Dylan."

"Yet…you somehow…always…managed." She croaked.

"Don't be smart with me." He said, yanking her hair and actually pulling a few strands out of her head, making her scream again though it was more strangled this time. "I only ever taught you how to be a good wife. You certainly weren't learning it anywhere else. That family of yours, I couldn't wait to get you away from them. Well, better late than never." He said, inspecting his knife. "Come on."

He grabbed her tied hands and began dragging her.

"Where…Where now?" She said, not being able to get anymore out.

"I figured the bed would be a nice place to end it, poetic and stuff."

Dylan tried to struggle against him as he dragged her over to the stairs.

"Dylan, stop it now."

"No!" She shouted as best she could. "I won't stop!"

Ryan shrugged. "Alright." He turned without a second's hesitation and stabbed her in the stomach. Dylan let out a strangled cry of pain and a gasp as he took the knife out before continuing his journey. "That oughta settle you down."

He dragged her up the stairs, her blood rubbing off every step of the way up. She groaned as he pulled her up. He got her into the bedroom and dropped her onto the floor before ripping the ropes off with the knife.

"See? I'm not so bad. You're not going to die feeling uncomfortable."

He picked her up and put her onto the bed where she began coughing up blood.

"Well, we can't have that." Ryan frowned. "I want everything to be perfect and you spewing up blood certainly isn't helping. I'll get you some tissue."

He walked into the bathroom and looked around for something to clean up her blood. He looked inside a cabinet finding a towel. "That'll have to do." He grabbed it and walked back outside to the bedroom, growing angry when she wasn't on the bed but a trail of blood led outside. He walked out and found her trying to half walk, half crawl down the stairs with the little adrenaline she had left.

"Dylan!" He said angrily, going after her. He froze though when her movements stopped and she slid down the last step, propped up against the wall. Ryan walked down and stepped over her so he was facing the stairs and could see her face. Her eyes were closed. "If you're dead before I say so, I'm going to be very angry with you."

"Excuse me, Mister Callaghan, is it?" Ryan turned quickly when Mort appeared behind him, clutching a dish towel just below his right shoulder. "I get that emotions are running high at the minute but if you want to kill a man, you better make sure he's really dead. Hitting me in my shoulder won't do no one no good."

"Why…Why are you talking with an accent?"

Shooter smirked.

* * *

**All in all, not Dylan's best day.**

**Thanks for reading! Please Review!**


	29. Second Chances

**Chapter 29**

_Beep…Beep…Beep…_

Dylan heard the noise before she could register what it was.

_Am I dead?_

_I'm not dead…_

After a few seconds, she managed to open her eyes slowly to find herself in a hospital room.

_I'm alive…_

_How?_

"Dylan? Are you awake?"

She tried to turn her head at the voice but groaned slightly, not being able to move much of anything.

"Oh, thank God." Mort said, standing up quickly and looking over her. His arm was in a sling and he had a square Band-Aid on the left side of his forehead.

"Mort?" She managed to croak out.

"I'm here." He reached over to press the button to alert the nurse. "I was so worried about you."

The two words she'd spoken seemed to be all she could manage because she didn't reply. She closed her eyes again as what happened came back to her fully. Mort saw a few tears run down her cheeks.

"You're safe." He said, stroking the tears away with his finger. "Now."

"I thought…You were dead."

"No, I'm here."

"How did he…?"

"It was Shooter…Until it wasn't."

Dylan frowned.

"I- I got out of him. That is to say, I mean…I overpowered him. Shooter, not Ryan. Actually, him too."

"What?"

"I was kind of coming in and out with Shooter but…Then it was just me. Well, me and him."

"Him? Ryan?"

"Yeah…"

"Where is he? What happened?"

Mort sighed.

Dylan frowned. "Mort? Where is he?"

"He's in a coma. No one knows if he'll wake up."

"What happened?" Dylan croaked.

Mort shook his head. "Dylan…"

"Please tell me."

"I shot him."

"You did? Or Shooter did?" Dylan still couldn't get over the fact that she wasn't actually talking about two different people. Or was she? She just didn't understand.

"I did." Mort said. "He was going to kill you and I had to do something. I managed to get the gun and I shot him in the head. I thought I killed him but when the paramedics came, they realised he wasn't. I didn't care about anything but making sure you were okay."

"How did you get the cut on your head?"

Mort brought his hand up to touch the band-aid. "He and I got into a bit of a scuffle. Hit it off the corner of the stove when he tackled me."

"Oh my God, Mort…I'm so sorry." She began to cry. "I put you in so much danger."

"No, no," He used his good hand to smooth back her hair. "Dylan, all I care about is you being safe. And you are, you're safe."

"How long was I out?"

"Two days. Doctors were very positive though. They say you're going to make a full recovery. Him, they're not so sure of. Actually, they're not sure at all."

"Are my family here?"

Mort smiled a little. "They haven't left. I've met all of them by the way. Sisters, brothers, in-laws, even a good few nieces and nephews. It's only because of your parents that I'm allowed in here."

Mort turned when a nurse entered the room.

"Miss Saunders, you're awake." She turned to Mort. "I'll go get the doctor."

Mort nodded and she left the room. He turned back to Dylan. "When the doctor comes in, I'll go let your family know you're awake."

"Okay but…I don't want to see anyone yet."

"Yeah, whatever you want." Mort said. "Do you want me to stay out too?"

"No, I want you to come back in."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Mort nodded. "I'll be here for as long as you want."

"Mort, about all the things I said to him…About you…"

"No, it's okay. I know you were just trying to get him onside."

"I really didn't mean any of it, I do trust you. I do love you." She cried.

"I know." He said softly. "Dylan, I didn't believe any of it."

The doctor walked in and they had to stop their conversation.

"I'll be back in later." Mort promised.

Dylan nodded and he left to go to the waiting room.

"She's awake." He told her family.

"Oh thank God." Her mother sighed.

"How is she?" Sam asked.

"Groggy but other than that, she's fine. She's talking and she remembers everything."

"I was kind of hoping she'd forget." Constance said.

"Can we see her?" Penny asked.

"She said she doesn't want to see anyone yet." Mort told them.

"What about you?" Jen asked. Mort had met Jen a little and decided he'd keep it that way in future.

"She wants me back in there when the doctor is finished."

"Oh so you're allowed go back in but her family isn't?"

"Jennifer, the just man saved your sister's life. He can go where he wants." Constance said shortly.

Mort felt this was his cue to go. He usually got this cue after being around her family for thirty seconds. They were a very close knit group and it seemed to be difficult to get in without one of their own which he didn't have with Dylan out of action. Mort had a feeling it was impossible to do on his own. He made up an excuse about getting something from the vending machines before hurrying out of there.

"Mort."

Mort turned back when Sam followed him out. "Yeah?"

"Is she really okay?"

"Yeah, she is. She's mainly just shaken."

Sam nodded. "The last time he put her in hospital, no one knew what to do so everyone just crowded around her and it all became too much for her. I can understand why she doesn't want to see anyone but her mother and I…"

"I'll talk to her." Mort promised. "I don't know if it'll do any good but I'll try."

"Thank you. For everything, Mort."

"I just did whatever I had to." Mort really didn't want to be proud of shooting a man but he definitely wasn't sorry he'd done it. He didn't know what to think about that. "He wasn't going to back down and neither was I when it came to her life."

Sam walked closer. "Look Mort, I can never repay you for what you did for my daughter but I do have to ask, I know you two weren't together before all this…"

"You're asking if I'm going to leave once she's strong again?"

Sam sighed. "She's been hurt so much; I just want to ensure she doesn't need to be hurt any more than she already has been. Now I understand you have to do what's best for you, with your recovery and everything, but I hope you realise why I think, if you're going to separate, that she doesn't become too attached now while she's weak and vulnerable."

Mort had been privy to how much of a hardass her father was and he felt like Sam would never like him and he'd never like Sam but now he realised why Sam was the way he was and that it could make him a good father.

"I'm staying. If she wants me to."

Sam nodded. "I'm happy to hear that."

"Really? Even though you know I recently had a relapse with alcohol?"

"You also just saved my daughter's life. We'd be organising a funeral right now if you weren't around her. For me to judge you and say you don't deserve a life that makes you happy would be to say that I don't either. I love my family and I wouldn't let anyone say that my problems mean I shouldn't be near them."

Mort didn't know what to say. He'd constantly been feeling like he didn't deserve to be happy with Dylan because of his problems. Hearing that he did from someone who knew what he was going through was a sort of validation he couldn't have gotten off any doctor.

"I'm going to go check on Dylan."

Sam nodded. "Will you ask her for me? It's just me and her mother."

"Of course."

Mort walked back to Dylan's room to see the doctor gone and her out of the bed though still grasping onto the railings tightly as she tried to walk. She had ripped the IVs out of her arm.

"Dylan, what are you doing?" He rushed over to support her.

"I need to walk."

"Why? Where do you need to go?" She didn't reply. "Dylan?"

"I want to see him."

Mort frowned. "Who? Your dad?"

"No, not my dad. I want to see him." She looked up at him.

"Dylan…"

"Mort, please." She begged. "I need to. I need to see that he is in a coma and that he's not waking up."

"I don't think you can, I think…"

"Mort, I have to try."

"You can barely walk."

"Then help me. Please."

Mort didn't think it was a good idea. He thought it was actually the worst thing he could do but the fact that he'd just walked in on Dylan trying to get up there herself had told him that she wouldn't give up and she might hurt herself in the process.

"Okay," He conceded. "But you're going in the wheelchair."

"What? No."

"Non-negotiable."

"You can't push a wheelchair with one hand."

"I'll manage." Mort was actually hoping the wheelchair would deter her but he was out of luck.

"Fine."

When they got up to the floor Ryan was on, Mort brought her to the door where there was a guard standing outside.

"Look." He brought her to the window. "There he is, now we can go back."

Dylan got up from the wheelchair.

"Dylan…"

Dylan looked at the guard. "Can I go in?"

"I don't think so, ma'am." The guard replied.

"Dylan, you can see him here." Mort said. "You don't need any more stress."

"Mort, I need this." She looked back. "I need to look at him up close. I just- I need closure."

Mort sighed and looked at the guard. "It'll only take a minute. I'll be with her the entire time."

"Please," Dylan said. "He nearly killed me, more than once. I think I should be allowed see him with my own two eyes."

The guard looked at the door before sighed. "One minute. I could get in serious trouble for this."

"Thank you."

Dylan walked into the room and Mort followed her in to try and take her arm but she was adamant to manage by herself, no matter how painful or tiring. She walked over to the bed and folded her arms insecurely as she looked down at him. His wrist was handcuffed to the bed railings and his chest and slowly moving up and down.

"For some reason, he and I always end up at a hospital together."

Mort didn't say anything but looked at her.

"The last time, before he did what he did, we had just been having a fight about some dirty dishes he'd put in the sink that I'd asked him to wash and I told him that I'd asked him three times." She held up three fingers, her forefinger, middle finger and ring finger. "Just like that. He grabbed my hand and pulled back my fingers so hard, he broke two of them. I was sitting in the waiting room of this very hospital and thinking that I just couldn't do it anymore. I couldn't marry this man and I couldn't live with him, I couldn't live like this for the rest of my life. I kept chickening out about how to tell him. I would decide to just get it over with and then I'd rethink it and wonder if I was just being stupid. I mean, it's rude, right? Holding up your fingers to someone like that, surely he just got frustrated and he'd apologised, so much. I would take off my engagement ring and wonder if it made me feel better, luckily he didn't break that finger. I was pretty convinced it was the right thing to do, even if I still wasn't sure how I was going to tell him when he stabbed me. I really regret never talking to him and telling him before it." She was silent for a while, looking over the machines that were keeping him alive. "It's so strange." She said. "He's caused me so much pain and all I'd have to do to get rid of him is pull that plug…"

Mort frowned at her. "Dylan."

She looked back at Mort, shaking herself out of those thoughts. "I'm sorry; I don't know what I was thinking."

Mort did. Mort had thoughts like that in the past which was exactly why he didn't want Dylan to start having them. "Come on, let's get you back."

Dylan nodded and began walking out of the room but she looked back at Ryan again.

"He'll wake up. He'll find me and I'll end up here again."

Mort gently brought her away. "That's not going to happen, I promise."

"How do you know that?"

"Because I do."

He got her back into the wheelchair and began bringing her back to her room.

"He wasn't supposed to be able to get out of prison to find me. Any thought on how he did?" Dylan asked.

"Apparently, a few different gangs got into a huge fight, the officers assured me that the word riot did not need to be used, and Ryan had to go to the hospital wing. Somehow, he managed to get out, find a prison guard uniform and walk out the front door."

"God…"

"Yeah, I thought your dad was going to hit someone."

"You mean he didn't? That's a surprise."

Mort smiled a little at her. "Are you ready to see anyone yet?"

"No."

"Dylan, they're all really worried about you. They just want to make sure you're okay."

"I put them through hell. Again." Dylan looked down. "I have a habit of doing that."

"No one's thinking that." Mort excluded her older sister.

"Not now but I…It's just all going to start again. They'll think they're being helpful but they just end up making me feel stupid."

"No, they won't."

"Mort, they-"

"Because I won't let them." He said. "I won't let anyone say something that could be used as some backhanded statement where it seems like they're being supportive but really, they're just doing it to point out bad things."

"You've met Jen then."

"Yeah, she's a sweetheart but like I said, I'm staying right next to you."

"Really?" She looked up at him.

"I am not leaving your side, no matter what anyone in your family says."

They got back to her room and Mort helped her back onto the bed.

"Anyway, it'd just be your parents." He promised. "They're going crazy not knowing how you really are, not being able to see you since you woke up. I swear, I won't let Jen or anyone else in and to be honest, I don't think your mom and dad will either."

"Family's being vocal about how much of a fuck up I am then."

"No, your parents just don't want to stress you out."

Dylan sighed. "Fine, I'll see them. Just my parents though."

"That's all your dad asked. Do you want me to stay?"

"God, you probably can't wait to go home instead of waiting on me hand and foot."

Mort frowned. "No, I want to stay right here and make sure you're okay."

"Why? I nearly got you killed."

"I could say the same. Shooter getting out of me around you…Dylan, I am so sorry."

"What did he do around Ryan?"

"What?"

"What did Shooter do around Ryan? I would think if the two of them were together, I definitely would be dead."

Mort put his head down, hating that there was a part of him that could ever want to hurt Dylan.

"I didn't mean it like that." Dylan said quickly, realising how terrible that sounded. She touched his uninjured hand. "I actually think I was talking him round, which is strange for me."

Mort nodded with his head still down. "You did. When Shooter came out around Ryan, he was only interested in making sure nothing happened to you."

"Really?"

"You really must have said the right things to him."

Dylan didn't think so. She offered Shooter the chance to publish the stories he had about her, twisted so she was the villain.

"It's sometimes hard to remember that I came up with Shooter as a coping mechanism." Mort shrugged. "He's actually there to help. That being said though, I think I'm finally getting to the point where I don't need a coping mechanism anymore."

"You are?"

"Well, I'm never usually able to overpower Shooter but I did then. I was the one who shot Ryan. I didn't think I could do something like that but I just knew you needed help and I did what I had to."

Dylan thought about it. "Do you think this means that Shooter is gone?"

"I don't know. I don't want to say yes in case it's not true. I don't know if I'll ever be rid of him. What I do know is that with the therapy and the sobriety and…You, I think I'm getting stronger than whatever it is making him come out."

Dylan smiled up at him. "I hope so."

"I think if I keep going the way I have been, with trying to get better, he might not come out anymore. I just have to keep off the alcohol for definite and I plan on doing that. Seeing the doctor too."

Dylan squeezed his hand lightly. "I knew you could do it."

Mort smiled before shaking out of it. Everything was still raw and tender and he wasn't going to fall into anything, not yet. "I'm going to go get your parents."

Dylan nodded. "Okay."

He left the room and Dylan sighed, wondering what the hell she was doing. Was she with him or not? Was he even safe to be around?

_He saved your life, of course he is._

_His other personality hid my car and tried to keep me locked up to do God knows what to me._

_Shooter helped save you. He kept Ryan away from you. Like Mort said, he uses Shooter as a mechanism to let him do the things he couldn't do otherwise and as it turns out, that thing was fighting off Ryan to help me, for Mort. Then Mort overpowered him. Doesn't that mean something?_

_It means you are talking about a man who has two separate people inside his head!_

_Not anymore. Mort overpowered Shooter. Now that he's quit drinking and getting help, Shooter is going away again. He went away before. You lived with the man and never once realised Shooter wasn't real. Shooter is not stronger than Mort, he only comes out when Mort is stressed and drinks. Shooter only came out when I left. Shooter is not a problem anymore._

_I hope._

"Dylan!"

She looked to the door when her mother rushed in and over to the bed. She went to hug her daughter but seeing her made Constance recoil.

"Oh my God, look at you."

"I can't, doctor won't give me a mirror. I asked."

"Oh honey, you're safe now. That's all that matters."

"Yes it is." Sam came up behind his wife and looked down at his daughter. Mort stayed at the door and out of the way. "You being safe is all we care about."

"I'm so sorry." Dylan said. "I'm sorry for putting you two through this."

"Dylan, stop apologising." Sam commanded sternly.

"Okay."

"It is not your fault that the prison guards were idiots. Callaghan tricked a lot of people. He's gone now though."

"He's not. He's upstairs in a coma."

"Which he'll stay in. If his family had any sense of decency, they'd pull the plug and put everyone out of their misery."

"Sam, he's in a coma, not brain dead." Constance said tiredly.

"He's on life support."

"People can wake up from that."

"He shouldn't."

Dylan closed her eyes at hearing her parents argue.

"Uh, sorry to interrupt this little ethics debate," Mort said quietly. "But I think you're focusing on the wrong patient here."

Both Sam and Constance looked back to their daughter.

"We're sorry, honey." Constance sighed, smoothing back her daughter's hair. "No more talk of him."

"Yes, from now on, he doesn't exist." Sam nodded.

Once that was decided, Sam and Constance began fawning over their daughter, making sure she had everything she needed. Mort felt it was okay to leave them to it and excused himself out of the room. He walked outside the hospital and considered lighting a cigarette but instead, just took in the fresh air. He was out there for a good while, not knowing what to do when he went back inside.

"Mort."

Mort froze at hearing that voice say his name. "What are you doing here, Amy?"

"I heard what happened on the news." She walked up to him. "I came by yesterday but they wouldn't let me anywhere near. I figured I'd try again today. Are you okay?"

"I would shrug in despondence but my shoulder won't really let me at the moment."

"My God…" Amy looked over his shoulder. "I told you that nothing good would come out of being around her."

"Something good did happen, I saved her life. I'm a hero." He said sarcastically.

"You got shot."

"Minor hindrance."

"Mort, please be serious about this. You could have died."

"But I didn't. I'm fine but thanks for the concern."

"You're not fine. Ryan Callaghan is not dead and not only that, he probably had friends or whatever in prison. You could be seriously hurt."

"Well, what are we to do about that, hmm? I can't take back shooting the guy in the head."

"You could not hang around the reason you're hurt in the first place."

"Jesus, Amy…"

"I am not saying this out of jealousy! I am genuinely concerned for you, Mort. Look at you!" She said. "You want to act like some protector to a woman who clearly needs to just disappear to keep herself safe."

"She's not going anywhere. And neither am I."

"Ryan Callaghan is dangerous."

"Ryan Callaghan is up in one of those rooms, practically brain dead and handcuffed to a bed with security outside his door. Ryan Callaghan is not dangerous to anyone anymore."

"If he has friends…"

"You really don't think the police considered that?"

"The police are the ones he got away from in the first place. He knew where you lived."

"Because I told him." Mort said. "I went to see him, I told him I was with Dylan, I did everything! If I hadn't gone to see him based on what you told me, he probably never would have found her and never even realised I had anything to do with her."

"Based on what I told you? You're saying this is my fault?"

"Christ, is that all you heard? No Amy, I'm saying this is my fault. All of this," He indicated around the hospital. "Is my fucking fault so I am going to stay right where I am."

"It is not your fault. You didn't make her shack up with a crazy man."

_Yes I did but I'm the crazy man._

"You know what, Amy? We got divorced. I don't know how many times I have to tell you that but we did. You cheated on me. I was so angry with you over what you did to me, I hated you so much and I hated Ted but now? Now I'm really fucking happy you did what you did. You and I were stuck at a dead end and had nowhere left to go. You were right, we were done before you ever started the affair and by doing it, you let me get out of our marriage and start my life over. You gave me a second chance and the great thing about second chances, Amy? They're new. Your past doesn't get to affect them. You are not in my life anymore, Amy. If you ever cared about me, if you want me to be happy then please, just please get in your car and drive away and leave me and our marriage behind you. You wanted a second chance? You got one but I want one too. Just give me that."

"Mort, I just…"

"It's not a question, Amy."

Amy was still for a second before nodding. "If that's what you want, Mort."

"It's what I've wanted since I signed those papers."

Amy sighed. "Goodbye, Mort." With that, she turned around and walked away.

Mort walked back into the hospital and up to Dylan's room to find an unpleasant sight.

"I mean, why the hell do you never have your phone on you?"

"I guess I'm just that forgetful."

Jen huffed. "Dylan, this isn't a joke. With what happened before, did you not think that being in contact might have eased our minds a little?"

"I'm sorry."

"Okay." Mort walked into the room. "That's enough. I think Dylan has had enough visitors for one day. She needs her rest."

"You know what? Could I talk to my sister alone for five seconds?" Jen asked shortly.

"No," Dylan said. "I want him here."

"Of course you do."

"If she wants me to stay, I'm not going anywhere." Mort shrugged.

"Hmmm, going from depending on one guy to the point where you can't leave him straight to another." Jen said to her sister. "How…Stereotypical."

Mort looked down at Dylan to see her getting upset.

"Okay, you know what? Dylan needs to rest so I think you should go."

"I'm sorry? I'm her sister."

"And you still need to leave."

"You know, it's only supposed to be relatives in here." Jen said. "The only reason you're allowed in here is because-"

"Is because I want him here." Dylan cut her off. "He's the only person I want in here right now."

Jen looked between both of them before storming out of the room.

Dylan sighed. "Sorry about her."

"Sorry I left. I said I'd stay."

"It's okay. I told them they could come in, might as well get it over with. Penny was in before her and that was much more pleasant. No doubt my family are going to hear all about how you're just another possessive guy who thinks he can drag me away from them now though."

"As long as you don't think that, I don't care."

Dylan shook her head. "Mort, you've spent the last two months trying to get rid of me, I don't think you're possessive." Mort was about to interrupt. "I know why you did it; you were trying to protect me. I'm just saying that I know you're not trying to rule my life like he did. I know you're nothing like him."

That meant a lot to Mort considering the fact he was thinking how he and Ryan were alike.

"Mort?" Dylan said. "I need to ask you something."

"What is it?"

"What happened? I need to know."

"Dylan," He sighed. "I wasn't lying about you needing rest. This isn't the right time."

"Mort, I need to know because I need to know what happened between…"

"I told you what happened between me and Ryan."

"I meant you and Shooter."

"Oh." Mort nodded. "What can I say? I told you what happened. I pushed him back or whatever is the right term for saying that you didn't let the fictional character you created in your head overpower you."

"I just- I need to know exactly what happened."

Mort sighed.

_"Why…Why are you talking with an accent?"_

_Shooter smirked. _

"_Whatever you're doing Rainey, you're not scaring me. I was in prison, got put in with a lot of crazies."_

"_Oh, I ain't crazy, just angry. And it ain't Rainey. Name's Shooter. John Shooter."_

_Ryan frowned. "What are you talking about?"_

"_I'm here to help Mister Rainey, always have been though he don't think so. Ungrateful. I bet you feel like that sometimes, don't you Mister Callaghan? Just trying to do what's best for people, no matter what, and they blame all their problems on you."_

_Ryan looked at him suspiciously. "Dylan sure does know how to pick them."_

"_Now I will admit that I didn't like Miss Saunders myself when she came along, thought she was trying to push me to the back of Mister Rainey, getting in the way of what needed to be done but the more she talked to me, the more I realised that she got more done for me than I did for Mister Rainey."_

"Wait, so Shooter really was trying to protect me?" Dylan frowned.

"Yeah, I guess you made a good impression on him."

Dylan didn't want to admit it but being on Shooter's good side made her feel a lot safer.

"What happened then?"

"Well, I guess I'm learning how to manage my stress better."

_Ryan looked around for the gun but looked back to Mort or Shooter when he clicked his jaw all of a sudden. Ryan looked at his face to see him blinking rapidly. _

"_What's going on with you?" Ryan frowned._

_Mort looked up at him before looking down at the body on the floor. "Dylan."_

_He began to walk over to her but let out a shout of pain when Ryan pushed him back by his injured shoulder._

"_What the fuck is wrong with you, writer?" He asked angrily. "Is this some kind of trick to make me scared of you? It's not working."_

"_It's not me you have to be scared of." Mort said, his hand against his shoulder. "Believe me; he'll kill you for looking at him weird."_

"_Who? It's just you!"_

"_No, it's not…When I get stressed, he comes out and with you around…"_

"_You're insane."_

"_I know. Must be weird to meet someone more insane than yourself." Mort looked back down at Dylan. "She needs help."_

"_You need help."_

"_Please just let me help her."_

"_Why would I do that when I want her to die?"_

"_She's not going to die." Mort said. _

"_Oh, she is. She's doing it right now and even if she doesn't and you somehow kill me right here and now, she isn't safe. Do you really think that I would be this obsessed with her and not do anything about it, even behind bars?"_

_Mort frowned. "What are you saying?"_

"_I'm saying that if she wants to stay anonymous, she shouldn't have been so into her magazines."_

"_You got a hold of her magazines in prison?"_

"_She looked good on that cover. 'Dylan Saunders, who recently shot for our staycation issue in the town of Tashmore, blah, blah, blah…' She was practically begging me to come get her."_

"_So you knew she was here? With me?"_

"_Oh no, you let me know that. I didn't realise she'd actually stay in this dump of a town and I didn't think she'd shack up with the town lunatic. I heard she was staying in that cheap little motel."_

"_Motel…" Mort repeated._

"_I told you, I have contacts and some of them are only too willing to help me out. Mark came up here to do a little digging on my sweetheart and was led to that dump. The manager was most unhelpful."_

"_You killed the Mister Rabinowitz?"_

"_Who the hell is Mister Rabinowitz?" Ryan asked angrily. "Another one of your imaginary friends? Let me guess, this one is the mayor of fairyland."_

"_He was the motel manager." Mort replied evenly._

"_No, I was in prison or are you that forgetful? But like I said, I have friends who are only too willing to help me out."_

"Mark?" Dylan frowned. "That's Ryan's brother and just as much of a psychopath."

"I know." Mort said. "I told the police when they interviewed me and they arrested this Mark guy. He hasn't confessed yet but they're building a case, getting statements from people who might have seen him around. He has prior convictions though, GBH."

Dylan nodded. "Ryan had never told me about him and when I found out, he said he'd cut ties years ago. Then I realised that wasn't true but he said Mark had changed and that my family wasn't perfect either. It was just another thing I stupidly went along with. After the trial, my family got a restraining order against him; he wasn't very happy I had his brother sent to jail. He never came near me though. Now I'm the reason an innocent man is dead."

"No Dylan, you're not."

"Mark went there for Ryan, to find me."

"Ryan told me that he never sent Mark to kill anyone. He just had a short temper. Norman Rabinowitz was counting the money when Mark came in. He answered Mark's questions and put the money in the register and locked it. When Mark realised that Mister Raninowitz had no idea where you went to, he decided he didn't want to waste the journey and pulled a gun, told him to open the register. Rabinowitz wouldn't do it, went for the police alarm and Mark shot him. He made a run for it in case any guests heard without the money."

"Ryan told you all that?"

Mort nodded. "He said he wasn't a cold blooded killer. Didn't want to hurt innocent people."

"What am I guilty of?" She sighed.

"That he didn't say."

"No, he didn't say last time either. Actually, that's not true. When we were in your cabin, he said he did it because I would leave him otherwise. If he had said that in the court room all those months ago when he was saying he didn't do it and then that he did it for no reason, I might have slept better at night. I have a feeling that's exactly what he didn't want. And now he's done it to me again. He sent people to find me, broke out of prison, stalked me, tried to kill you and me and all because I tried to move on with my life? There has to be more to it and I'll never know. That's if he doesn't wake up. If he does…"

"He won't. And Dylan, you can't try and put a reason behind him. You'll drive yourself crazy."

"I know that, from experience."

"Anyway, there's no reason good enough for him to do what he did. Even if he gave one, you wouldn't be satisfied. He wanted to own you and if you keep wondering about him, he will."

Dylan nodded, wiping away a tear. "So, what happened next?"

"Isn't this enough for today?"

"No, I want to hear it all now."

"_You know what? I may have two different personalities but you're insane, even for me."_

_Ryan shook his head. "You know what, writer? I'm done with you. You're going to wish you died when I shot you."_

_Ryan frowned when Mort did that weird clicking thing with his jaw again._

"_Now, you see, that ain't going to work out too well for you."_

"_Oh Christ, this again?"_

"_Now Mister Rainey has made his stance on you very clear. You can't just come into a man's home and started threatening him. I learned that the hard way, won't get you nowhere."_

"_Okay, that's it. You are too much of a fucking maniac for me to deal with. It's time to say goodbye."_

"_Wait, what?" Mort blinked. _

"_Who the fuck are you now!?" _

_Mort looked up at Ryan. "He won't get out again. I don't need him. I can take care of you all by myself."_

"_It's just you!"_

"_It's not though. It's very complicated…"_

_Ryan seemed to let his frustration take over and in the next second, he lunged with the knife still in hand. Mort blocked the knife by pushing his arm away and knocked it out of the man's hand to go under the table but the force of the man pushed him back and he turned, his head colliding with the stove. Mort went to the floor and the pain was so intense, he was sure Shooter would come back out just out of anguish. He didn't though. Mort managed to kick Ryan away and the man went down against a chair, breaking it. Ryan spotted the knife a few inches away and grabbed it before getting up and turning into the living room where Mort had gone. When he turned, he saw Mort pointing the gun at him._

_Ryan had to laugh. "You going to shoot me, writer? You sure you don't need your little buddy to do that? He seems tougher. Or are you him already? I can't keep track of your insanity."_

"_No, it's all me." Mort said. "And you're right; usually I would need Shooter to do this. Shooter's not here though. I don't need him to protect her and I don't need him to do what I need to anymore. I know exactly what I have to do."_

"_Try and scare me into running off again?" Ryan mocked._

"_No. I have to finish this, give you a proper ending."_

"_A proper ending?"_

"_You wouldn't get it, you're not a writer."_

"_Enough with the fucking cryptic bullshit. I'm going to kill you just to get you to shut-"_

_Mort shot the gun, getting the man in his head, a little to the right. The man collapsed back on the floor._

"_If I was thinking about the writing, I would have let you finish the sentence." Mort walked over to him. "I guess it can't always be perfect."_

_He kicked the man's foot but there was nothing. Mort walked out to the stairs and dropped the gun, going to grasp Dylan._

"_Dylan? Come on, please be alive."_

_He let out a sigh of relief when he put a hand to her chest and felt it slowly going up and down. _

"_Oh, thank God."_

_He picked her up and brought her to the couch before picking up the phone and dialling 911._

"That's pretty much it."

Dylan shook her head. "It does sound like Shooter's gone."

"I don't want to make any promises but even if he isn't, he's all about protecting you now too."

Dylan looked up at him. "You protected me, not him. You were the one who squared off against Ryan, you could have died."

"All I cared about was that you didn't."

Dylan smiled up at him although she was still crying. "Mort, I can never repay you for what you did for me."

"You don't have to. I did what I needed to do and I would do it again in a second. I love you too much to ever do otherwise."

Dylan closed her eyes and more tears streamed down her face. "I really thought I'd never hear you say that again, even before Ryan showed up."

Mort sighed. "I made a lot of bad decisions by trying to be the good guy. What happened just made me realise that I need you more than I could have ever thought."

"Does this mean you want to be together?"

"It means I want us to start over. I want a clean slate with you."

Dylan shook her head. "No."

That one word made Mort's entire world sink. "No? Well, I guess that's…"

"I don't want a clean slate and I don't want to start over. I don't want to try and fix anything. We've been through a lot together, Mort. I don't want to throw everything under the rug. I just want to continue."

Mort frowned. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying if we start again, we're starting from step one but you don't love someone in step one, you don't know you want to spend your life with someone in step one and I know those things when it comes to you. I love you and I want my life to be with you. I know we said we went too fast before but Mort; people don't go through what we went through together and come out of it being casual. Either you're in this with me as intensely as I am with the experiences we have or you want casual and new but it won't be with me."

Mort had to smile in relief. "I think I can work with that. I'm in it for the long haul."

"Really?"

"Really. We can pick up right where we left off once you get out of here. But can we at least pick up before I relapsed? I'd kind of like to start from that point instead of when I threw you out of my house."

Dylan nodded. "That's exactly what I want."

Mort had an awkward question now. "Does this mean we're still looking to buy a house together?"

"Oh…I don't know. That might have been a little fast. After all, when we decided that, things did start to go downhill."

"It's perfectly okay if we don't, not yet."

"All I know at the moment is I can't go back to that house again. It haunted me before but now it's just going to kill me."

Mort nodded. "And I think I'm the same with the cabin. It's been a crime scene these last couple of days but once the police are out of there, I think I am too. Too much baggage. But that doesn't mean we have to live together."

Dylan nodded. "We'll just take our time."

"Whatever you want."

* * *

**Did this chapter have a ending vibe to you? It did to me so now, it's the final chapter. I do have an epilogue though so I'll upload that soon. I guess it's time to ask what I always do at the end of a story. Sequel? Most of the chapters I began writing for this story are actually sequel material funnily enough and with the epilogue, you'll know why.**

**Thanks for reading! Please Review!**


	30. Epilogue

_One Month Later…_

"What do you think?"

She looked up. "I think it needs to be a few inches to the right."

"Aw, come on…"

"What? You asked. It's a little close to the fire. It should be nearer the window."

Mort sighed and began moving the tree again.

"How come I get the heavy lifting and you get to sit on the couch and play with decorations?"

"Because I'm still all weak and tired."

"I was with you at the doctor's missy, can't fool me. He said you're able to go back to normal activities. There." Mort looked back at her. "Better?"

Dylan looked at the tree from where she was sitting cross legged on the couch, Chico's head resting on her thigh. "Perfect. Oh and by the way, lugging a Christmas tree around is not normal activities."

"Oh? And what are normal activities?"

Dylan smirked at him.

"Oh." He smiled. "Yeah, that's way better than lugging around a tree. Wanna go upstairs?"

Dylan laughed, getting off the couch. "Not until we decorate the tree. It's our first Christmas together, I want everything to be perfect."

She got close to him, wrapping her arms around his neck as he put his hands on her back.

"It will be perfect. Today was perfect and it's just the start of the holiday." He said, referring to Dylan making him go out shopping for new Christmas decorations after her morning appointment at the doctor and then to buy a tree. He could tell she was desperate to get back to normal stuff and get her mind off the hospital so he went along with it and actually ended up enjoying himself. He guessed being out of Tashmore really was what he had needed, it had just taken him too long to realise it.

"I know. I kinda wish the house had been ready though."

"Yeah but we'll be spending the rest of our Christmases there and you did want the sun room and new floors."

"I know." She smiled. "I want the house to be more perfect that the holiday so I'm willing to wait."

Mort smiled back before reaching in and pressing his lips against hers. Dylan fell into the kiss, forgetting all about the tree until Mort reminded her.

"Okay," He said when the kiss parted. "Where do we start on this tree? Decoration is not my strong-"

"Actually, you know what?" Dylan said, still looking at him. "We're just going to be distracted doing this and it needs attention so…"

"Why would we be distracted?" Mort frowned.

"Well, didn't you want to go upstairs?"

He smirked. "Yes I did."

"Mhmm, and that's all we'll think about so…Wanna go upstairs?"

"Yes, I do."

Dylan smiled and took his hand, leading him up to their temporary bedroom.

The decision to not live together had been short lived for Mort and Dylan for as soon as they started looking for new places to live, they couldn't stop thinking about how the place they'd live in would be temporary. Things had been like old times once Dylan had gotten out of hospital and they were learning how to be very good at taking care of each other, Mort taking care of Dylan and her injuries and Dylan being a rock for Mort to help his sobriety and his recovery from Shooter. Shooter hadn't made one reappearance since and Mort no longer felt paranoid though he had to credit the routine meetings with his doctor for that too. But when he and Dylan sat down and really talked about it, they realised that in the long run, they were both sticking around and so, living together just seemed like the right thing to do, even if it was fast. Maybe the speed wasn't the problem but now that they'd left their demons behind them, they could finally just be a couple without their pasts haunting them. And for the last month, that's exactly what they'd done. They found a house they loved, though some renovations were needed due to its age, so for the time being, they were renting a house close by and a few days after the new year, they'd be moving in and making a real home together. The thought excited both beyond compare.

Little did Dylan know, Mort had a plan to make this Christmas and their new home together even more perfect and he carried it out on Christmas. The day had been just how Dylan wanted it. They had stayed at the house instead of visiting relatives as it was their first holiday together and after a wonderful morning and day, Mort found Dylan sitting out in the back garden, wrapped in a blanket with Chico on her lap that night, her legs curled up.

"What are you doing out here?" He asked, sitting on the bench next to her. "It's cold."

"I'm just looking up at the stars." She smiled. "I like that we can actually see them out here instead of a bunch of lights fading them out."

"Yeah, it's nice." Mort looked from the sky to her. "So was Christmas everything you hoped?"

She nodded. "It was wonderful. Thank you. It can end on a high note now."

"Actually, it's not finished yet."

Dylan frowned.

"I didn't give you all of your presents this morning." He admitted. "I have one more."

She kept her frown but her eyes widened when he pulled a small box out of his pocket.

"I kinda had to build up the courage to give you this one." He admitted, opening the box and revealing a diamond ring. Dylan was sure her heart had stopped beating. "Or ask you to take it, I guess. I just know I love you, Dylan, and I really want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?"

Dylan smiled with the beginnings of tears in her eyes. Her voice was barely above a whisper.

"Yes."

"You will?"

"Yes, of course I will." She nodded. "I don't think I want anything more."

Mort smiled and took the ring out of the box and slipped it onto her finger. Dylan looked down at it in awe before looking at her now fiancé, she supposed and kissed him. She knew that she'd never take this ring off, he'd never give her a reason to.

"You're stuck with me now." Mort said once the kiss ended.

Dylan smiled at the thought of that.

"Perfect."

* * *

**When I began writing this story, everything I seemed to write had Mort and Dylan engaged or married so I have a load of chapters with those kinds of storylines. If you liked this story, I hope you like that I have really no other option but to get out my other storylines in a sequel so, you know, sequel coming soon.**

**Thanks for reading! Please Review!**


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